


holy fuck, i’m about to die

by pteryx99



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Anorexia, Anxiety, Cheating, College, Drug Abuse, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Solicitation, Insecure Steve Rogers, Kinda slow burn oh well, M/M, Mental Illness, Past Underage Sex, Steve is a dork, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has Issues, Unhappy Ending, Unhappy/open ending, Unhealthy Obsessions, Violence, implicit sexual content, musician!tony, steve rogers: bi panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pteryx99/pseuds/pteryx99
Summary: a lonely boy goes to a gig.





	1. word salad

“I have to ask, why did you bring me here?” 

Steve leant closer to Bucky’s ear when he asked, fearing that the sound of metal smashing against metal that was supposed to be metal was too loud for him to be heard. They were propped up against a tall round table in the back of the bar, the space mostly empty as everyone else was crowded towards the corner of the room, jumping and thrashing against each other, it amazed him how many people had managed to cram into such a small place, the roof was low, the rafters decaying, college kids bounced off of the peeling red wallpaper. 

“I met this girl at a party, she seemed cool, seemed into me. She told me to come see her band.” His friend replied, standing on his toes to try and spot the girl over the row of dotted heads bopping up and down.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “So that’s what this is? You dragged me here so you could get laid? You think any girl that smiles at you for more than a couple seconds is into you, she was probably just trying to sell a couple more tickets to the show.” 

“Hey, it’s not like I grabbed you by your wrists and pulled you all the way here against your will, if it weren’t for me you would’ve been sitting in your dorm alone with your pencils for friends, you know, like a loser.” 

“I was perfectly happy being a loser, thank you.” 

“Oh quit being miserable, come on, let’s get closer, hopefully I can actually see her.” 

Steve resentfully followed his Bucky to the edge of the crowd, pulling his back closer to his neck, feeling out of place and too warm in his blue sweater, compared to the black shorts and chains and ripped tees adorned by the majority. 

As they got closer, Bucky didn’t need to stand on his toes to see the band, Steve didn’t need to or want to anyway - but curiously glanced over the heads to see the band members.

For some unexplainable reason, there was one member in particular who caught Steves eye, unable to turn away even as he spoke to his friend, who was attempting to nod his head in time to the beating of the rock music.

“Who’s that?!” Steve shouted, he didn’t even think he meant to say that out loud.

“That’s her! The singer - the redhead! Cute right?!”

“Not her, the one on the drums!” 

The boy that he was talking about was in fact the drummer, a pale looking brunet, his hair damp, matted and curled on his forehead and blank lining his big, wet, excitable eyes. The tank top he wore exposing his toned arms which glistened with sweat under the broken, dim yellow bar light. 

Steve felt thrilled by his movements the moment he set eyes on him, but it was his wicked smile that stopped him from looking away.

“Oh! Man! That’s Tony Stark! Don’t worry, he’s not dating her, I don’t even think he swings that way anyway!”

Steve was thankful that Bucky thought he was thinking about his interests, and not his own. And was even more thankful about that second piece of information, the warm pang of relief in his stomach suggested.

“Oh?” Attempting not to sound too interested in the fact.

“Yeah! He was at the party too but he was with his boyfriend or somethin’ the whole time! I didn’t really get to speak to him!” Bucky was shoved closer to him by the bumping crowd, causing his lips to press against his ear for a brief moment and making him shiver. “She told me he left home to go live with him, he’s - You know that guy who owns that big science company?! It’s called Stark!” 

“Really?! Uh, who’s the boy- the boyfriend? Is it that guy on the bass?” 

Steve pointed a long finger towards the slender boy picking at a red bass guitar. Dressed a little more moderately with a much calmer demeanour than the rest of the best, maybe he was just concentrating. 

“Nah. He’s not in the band, does publicity or something? I didn’t talk to him, seemed a little sketchy!”

“Oh! Okay!” 

Steve winced, he’d been talking as the band changed songs, suddenly startled as the short redhead began shouting into the mic.

_”FUCK YOU! YOU’RE SO OLD, DUDE! LIKE SERIOUSLY WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”_

He screwed up his face, and wondered if people listened to this for pleasure, and then mentally slapped himself on the wrist for being judgemental, he had a tendency for that sometimes.

He turned to Bucky with his unsure, angled expression, and Bucky looked back with a wide grin, Steve wondered if they were listening to the same thing, because his friend was clearly having a better time than he was.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t like going out or he didn’t have a particular fondness for large, aggressive crowds or that he didn’t like the ambience of the bar, you know, who cares if he may get stabbed at any moment? No, it wasn’t any of that, he just didn’t want to go out that night, and he didn’t like the music, and he didn’t like how that boy on the drums made him feel.

_”NEVER INVITE ME OVER EVER AGAIN! JUST KIDDING, PLEASE DO, I REALLY WANNA HANG OUT WITH YOU!”_

With that, Steve realised he’d had enough, and he wasn’t going to enjoy the music no matter how hard he tried and - trust him - he was trying. 

“I’m gonna go find a table and get a drink!” He patted his friends shoulder, and was grabbed around the wrist at his attempt to walk away.

“Hey, that better be water brewski, I’m not hurlin’ you outta here like last time!” Bucky clicked his tongue into a smile back at Steve. 

“Pretty sure that was you, maybe if you stayed off the booze you’d remember!” He’d meant it playfully although his tone suggested otherwise, thankfully his friend knew him well enough to understand that, letting go of his wrist and instead patting him on the shoulder to send him on his way.

“Ouch! Anyway, don’t get lost!”

“Don’t get... Thrashed!”

“Sounds like something I don’t wanna catch!” 

“Later!” Steve swiftly interrupted and turned towards the lonely bar. 

The bartender, a short plump girl with pink hair and piercings dotted around her face like pins on a map, gave Steve a weird look when he ordered a coke (not a water), but it might’ve just been because she was trying to watch the band when he’d interrupted her.

He’d managed to find a table in the best possible part of the bar, next to a wall so he wasn’t too close to the mayhem and the racket - despite its wooden surface being sticky, it didn’t bother him all that much.

He could see the band through a gap in the crowd by the far wall, people blocked by some speakers and equipment he wanted to learn more about but most importantly - he had a generous albeit cut off view of Tony Stark that he hadn’t had before with the other members in front of him. 

From here, he couldn’t see as many details, yes, but he could see the skin under his armpit through the gaping armhole of his tank top, and he thought about how he was probably sweating and probably smelled like sweat, and then how he should probably stop thinking like a weirdo, so he pulled out his phone.

_Typical_. No service. He didn’t particularly feel like asking the delightful bartender for the wifi either. 

Feeling awkward being the only person sitting down and having nothing to do with his hands but pick up his drink and put it back down again, Steve decided to root through his bag and pull out his sketchbook. Figuring that was less weird than sitting alone in an insanely crowded bar with live music. 

Getting back to what he had originally planned on doing before Bucky charged into their dorm and informed Steve they were going out whether he wanted to or not, what he’d begun sketching at his desk no longer inspired him. 

So as the band played, and Steve blurred out the shouting/singing, occasionally glancing through the bodies to find Bucky, who must’ve bumped into someone he knew it was feeling friendly, since he’d started dancing/jumping with a brunette around his height - Steve (roughly) sketched Tony, and the rest of the band, obviously, and the bar, and the people, not just a stranger, that would be weird.

He’d been drawing mostly from memory for awhile, what he saw when he stood against the crowd and what he saw of Tonys hip and armpit, the lead singers ripped tights underneath her shorts and the bassists long dark fingers etc, it wasn’t a realistic drawing at all, but worked at keeping him content, he wouldn’t have known how to dance anyway. 

The sound of the band stopping blending in with the sound of the bartender replacing the noise with the radio so that there was no time for any audible silence and loud chattering was so efficient that Steve hadn’t noticed they’d stopped, and the crowd was quickly filling out the room towards the bar and out the door to smoke most likely. 

When he did realise, and wanted to put his books and pencils away before he _really_ looked weird, Bucky and the vocalist were approaching him. As much as he wanted to pack away his things, his mother always told him to stand up when a lady was approaching - _Goddamn it_. 

“Steve! You disappeared on me, couldn’t handle it?” 

“Not everyone can.” The redhead said from beside him, her talking voice was sensuous in comparison to her singing voice, she had shimmery violet eyelids and red lipstick that almost matched the red bangs feathered over her eyes, and she looked up at Steve with not so curious green eyes, which made him uncomfortable, he felt as though she’d figured him out already and it was something that he didn’t even know about himself. “Hi. I’m Natasha.”

He placed himself in front of the table, leaning his back against it gently - one, so he looked more relaxed and two, because he didn’t want this girl who was obviously much cooler than him think he was Buckys weird friend who drew strangers in bars. 

“Uh, Steve. Nice to meet you, show was good.” He was never very good at talking to girls. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it from your lonely table.” She smiled, and glanced at where he had been sitting at something, although the didn’t follow her eyes. 

“I did.” He smiled back, glancing at Bucky who was giving him his usual ‘_don’t be weird, man_ slash ‘_you’re doing great, buddy!_’ look, if only he knew that Steve wasn’t worried about talking to this girl despite how pretty she was.

“I’m glad.” Her painted lips strewed into a line as she turned her smile towards Bucky, who had already averted his gaze to her. “I think Steve here needs a drink to loosen up a bit.” 

“Oh, I-“ 

“Yeah, good plan. Maybe I’ll get you something too while we’re at it.” His smile at her was friendly and familiar although they were practically strangers, and she was agreeable with him, curling her lips at Steve before leading his friend away. He followed, of course, not before giving Steve a hopeful wink as he followed her pointed footsteps.

Sighing to himself, feeling very alone again with the bar filled with people, apparently all already drunk - he wondered how they didn’t throw up jumping around like that.

“Man, I’ve packed on a few pounds huh?”

Steve almost jumped when a voice spoke behind him, piercing through him over the dull music in the speakers and general loud chatter. He turned around swiftly and saw - 

_Oh Gooooooooooood_.

The boy on the drums. That one. Tony Stark. Sitting on the stool where he had been sitting. Holding _his_ coke in _his_ hand looking at _his_ stupid fucking drawing on the sticky fucking table. 

He interrupted Steve before a protest could escape his lips.

“I mean, you made me look awesome, I’ll give you that.” 

And then he was looking at Steve, thick black lashes and big brown eyes looking, at him. 

And he did smell like sweat, but not in a bad way, it was boyish and kind of exciting, his eyes were exciting. Then he became conscious of how he smelt, and if he remembered to put on deodorant before he came out. _Get it together_.

A part of Steve wanted to say: ‘_Hey man, that’s a really huge invasion of privacy and I don’t appreciate it! I don’t know who you think you are, dude!_’ Because really, you shouldn’t go through some strangers belongings just because you feel like it - But he was a cute boy, a really cute boy, Steve had never been so conflicted with himself in his life.

“I was just drawing what I saw... NOT that you’re chubby or anything.” _Please don’t ever speak again_.

“I never used the word chubby.” 

Stark squinted, his plump pink lips pursed together, looking up at Steve interrogatively - his mind went blank, trying to think of what to say because _Dear Lord_, he’d messed up again but the music was incredibly loud and Tony was holding his coke and he had chipped black nail polish and he could see his nipples through his shirt when he looked down and-

“I’m just messin’ with you Picasso.” He snorted, and Steve couldn’t tell whether he was just laughing or whether he was laughing at him, he felt offended and intrigued all at once.

Steve laughed nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets so he would have something to do with them. “Oh. Good. I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers.” 

Tony stood from Steves seat and - _Oh my God, he’s so small, why am I so scared of him_ \- tilted his chin up at him, with a sedated sort of smile. “I’m Tony. Tony Stark.” _I know_. “So, Steve Rogers, what brings you here, other than... doodling?” 

He wore a smirk on his lips, it was sharp, but his eyes were soft despite the black lining his lashes. Steve couldn’t stop looking, it was like there was nothing impossible in the world but his ability to stop looking at this boy, this stranger.

“My friend dragged me down here, he’s at the bar sweet talking your lead singer right about now.” 

“Oh, gotcha. Well he’s not the first man to try and explore those troubled waters. We’ll see how that goes.” He mumbled. “Weren’t into the show, then?” Steve didn’t think his opinion mattered to his person, but maybe it did.

“Uh, I’m not very ‘punk rock’.” 

Tony stared back at him for a moment before his head fell, biting his lip. “Yeah, I can tell.” Then he smiled back at Steve and it made his stomach do weird things. “Because you say things like ‘I’m not very punk rock’.” 

“O- Stop.” Nervous laughter creeped out of him again. “But you were good...” 

“Really? Thought I was a little heavy handed.” 

_I don’t mind if you are_. “Well I’m no expert. But -“

“Tony. Time to start boxing everything up.” 

A blonde around Tonys height interrupted Steve as he wrapped his arm around Tonys shoulder, it was like he didn’t even notice Steve was there.

“Hello to you too. Enjoy the show?” He replied with sarcasm leaking through his tongue.

“Come on, it’s getting late.” 

“The night is still young. This is Steeeeve.” He chimed, and then the rude one finally acknowledged Steves existence. “Steve, this is Ty. My groupie.”

“Ha-ha.” He didn’t seem too pleased about Tonys comment but extended his arm for Steve to shake his hand, which he not so delicately accepted. “Hi.”

“Hi.” 

“Well. It was nice to meet you, but we need to start putting the gear away. Tony.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Ty walked away from Tony without another word, which provoked an irritated sigh from Tony. “I hope I see you around here again Steve Rogers.” He said through an evidently forced smile, which made him feel awful. 

“You too, Tony Stark.” 

The brunets smile softened, just for a moment, but Steve caught it, until it soured again, as he nodded at Steve and walked back towards the now lonely corner of the bar where he’d first set eyes on him. 

Steves night had turned out to be much more interesting than expected.

-

Steve decided that he liked rock music. 

He obviously didn’t know when this occurred, completely coincidental, a twisted change of fate. He no longer enjoyed the soothing tones of jazz or gentle guitar, nope, not at all. 

Steve also didn’t much use social media, he just didn’t care for it, but Facebook was a god send for finding local gigs for an obviously-not-specific college rock band (Tonys band was called The Avengers - a little cliche but it had a nice ring to it). 

Fortunately, Bucky didn’t seem too interested where Steve was going once a week, and it’s not his football teammates ever invited him out, so for the next few weeks he went alone after college to see the band, because he liked rock music. That was the only reason. Obviously.

Most nights he couldn’t catch Tony after the show, but that was fine. Sometimes he would draw, like the first time, sketch the sweat gleaming off of Tony’s skin, the details of his band t-shirts which were sometimes ripped around the neck exposing his collarbones, or from the side he could see his legs, he’d wear shorts and have scraped knees and bandages but he didn’t like to think about how that happened. 

Steve had never been with a boy, he thought about it, a lot, especially since he met Tony, he wasn’t just nice to look at, he was interesting too, his charisma, how he was slightly annoying and a teeny bit rude. But he knew Tony was inaccessible and that was fine, he knew he would probably never have the courage to be with a boy especially when his teammates were the peak of testosterone and steroid induced toxic masculinity, but that was fine.

One night, though, Tony was wearing glittery blue eyeshadow, and Steve didn’t know how to act. He wasn’t used to boys wearing makeup, or nail polish, except for pictures on the internet - and he could imagine how his peers would probably poke fun or be mean purely because they didn’t understand, even if that was the reason, he couldn’t stand ignorance and he couldn’t stand bullies, it’s just some paint and some glitter, right? 

Anyways - Steve thought that this particular night, he’d bring Tony flowers, because that’s what you do for people who perform right? You bring them flowers as a way of saying ‘I’m proud of you!’ - wait, that’s too forward, more like ‘you’re a star and I admire you!’ - sure, whatever. Steve kept telling himself it wasn’t a romantic gesture at all and he was just being nice, after all, most of the gigs didn’t require a ticket and they relied from profits from the bar sales that night. 

He’d brought sunflowers, because they looked like stars. 

After the two hour set, which mostly involved Steve standing around awkwardly with the flowers and leaning against the wall, trying to enjoy the music, one song was basically the words ‘_Oh my God_’ over and over again, Natasha progressively shouting louder, Steve saw everyone in the room fill out as usual, the band chattering amongst themselves and then to others - he had a sudden thought:

_What the hell am I doing?_

And then he rushed out of the door, into the night. He leant against the wall outside the bar, breathing hot air out into the cold evening, flowers clutched in his fist.

He wondered if he was being creepy, he wasn’t too different to a fan really was he? Or a groupie? He wouldn’t mind being a groupie, maybe that would suit him. Probably not, not if it was like that Ty he met, he didn’t like him at all, something about him raised a bunch of red and blue and yellow flags for him.

“Steve?” 

Out of nowhere, once again, he saw Tony leaving the bar alone, in the middle of pulling out a cigarette.

_Oh my God. He remembers me?_

“Oh, hi.” He smiled, quickly as he could, avoiding looking at Tony as he approached him, leaning on the wall next to him. He offered Steve a cigarette to which he politely declined before lighting his own. “Set was good tonight.”

“And the other nights?” Tony then smirked, and raised an eyebrow towards Steve, the blonds mouth fell open, feeling as though he’d been caught doing some terrible heinous act. “I’ve seen you around, shame you never try and talk.” 

He was glad he didn’t think he was strange. “Never get a chance to. Not my fault you’re the equivalent of small town famous.” 

Tony laughed as he took a drag of his cigarette, Steve enjoyed how his lips formed around it. “I don’t know. How famous can a shitty college band be?” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s shitty.” 

“Well thank you.” Then he pointed to Steves fist with the end of his cigarette. “Who are they for? Promise I won’t tell.” 

He held them up as an anxious reflex. “Uh, oh it’s-“ 

“Are they for Nat?” 

“Um. Yes.” 

“Ah, I see. The giving fan. Tell you what, I’ll give em to her for you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” He gestured to Steves hand, and without thinking he passed them to Tony.

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground and turned towards the door. _Don’t say anything, don’t say anything._ Steve stood up off of the wall.

“Actually, uh, Tony.”

“Mm?” He hummed, turning back around.

“They’re - uh - they’re for you.” 

Steve felt very vulnerable, standing in the side walk, fists and jaw clenched like he’d laid himself bare in front of Tony and Tony alone.

The brunet blinked, trying to make sense of everything in his head.

“Oh. Um.” Then he caught Steves gaze for the first time, he’d never really looked at him before, always past him. “Thank you?” 

_Now he thinks you’re weird. The boy with the glittery eyelids thinks you’re weird_. 

When Steve nodded, Tony nodded back, he turned back towards the door, and it made Steve want to be sick, until he turned around again, making an expression which was somewhere along the lines of disbelief and pure relief.

“Hey. Steve?” 

“Yeah?” He said a little breathlessly.

“You wanna come hang out with us?” 

They stood and stared for awhile, the cars skirting past in the night and faceless people walking around them like they were magnetised. It was weird, and scary, and kind of awkward, but in Tonys deep brown eyes, that had turned to pitch in the moonlight, Steve had felt something in his gut that was unlike anything familiar to him. Unlike how he felt when he first saw Tony, when he confused and thrilled, now, there was that, and the undeniable uncertainty that this may be the beginning of something he’d never truly expected, and that he didn’t know what he was bargaining for, but he was grateful for the chance - for the unpredictable. 

Steve made a similar face back at Tony. “Sure.” 

“Cool.” Tony bit his lip unsurely, and Steve thought he was the awkward one. His eyes darted back and forth for a second before he turned, finally to go back inside, but slowly, so Steve would follow. 

This particular bar had been much less run down than the one he’d first met Tony in, there was a private lounge area in the back which admittedly was just a small room with some mis-matched couches and a coffee table but the atmosphere made it comforting.

“Everybody, this is Steve! Steve, this is the band.” He pointed his free hand out into the room, tucking the flowers in his elbow. “That’s Nat, you already met her right?”

“Hello again.” 

“That’s Rhodey, and no, I promise that nickname has nothing to do with him being in a band.” 

Rhodey just nodded at Steve. “James. Hi.”

“That’s Clint, he’s an asshole.” 

“Fuck you Tony. Hi Steve.”

“Hi.”

“Aaaaand you met Ty.” 

“Didn’t realise we had room for the entire football team now.” Ty said in a passive aggressive tone, looking at Nat as he said it. 

“Get over it, darling. Steve, go with Nat and Rhodey, I promise they won’t eat you.” He placed a hand on Steves back, gently pushing him in the direction of the couch. Ideally, he would’ve sat with Tony and not Tonys fuckwit boyfriend who has only been rude to him for no apparent reason but, he’d deal. Tony found a large glass filled with what must’ve been somebodies glass of water and placed the flowers inside, ignoring the stare we was getting from Ty.

Steve sat between Natasha and Rhodey, who gave him surprisingly welcoming smiles - that didn’t stop him from feeling completely out of place. From his clothes to just... everything about him, these weren’t the kind of people he usually had to spend time with, he was used to douchey incestuous jock clones (apart from Bucky), so in actual fact, it was refreshing. 

“Steve. Tell us about yourself.” Natasha tilted her head, hair falling over her shoulder and slinking over her fishnet shirt as she did.

“There’s not much to say.” His shoulders were too wide for the gap he’d been allowed but neither of them seemed to mind.

“Oh come on. It’s not often Tony brings someone into our little crew. There must be something.” Rhodey narrowed curious brows at him, Clint seemed to be doing something on his phone.

“Um.” _don’t get too hopeful_ \- he glanced over at Tony, who had been pulled onto Ty’s lap and was having his neck attacked by his lips. _Ugh._ “I play football, like _Ty said_, over at Boston.”

Tony sat up square in his boyfriends lap, yet looked at Steve when he addressed him, there was a hand sliding down the inside of his thigh, and a possessive arm around his stomach. “Steves an artist.” 

“Really?” Rhodey asked.

“Barely.” Steve smiled, a little bashful, especially when he noticed Tony smiling at him. 

“So do you wanna be an artist? Or do you wanna play football forever?” Natasha questioned.

“Um. I only really draw for fun, doesn’t mean I’m any good at it-“

“You’re being modest.” Tony groaned. 

“Well I- I doubt I could make a career out of it, or football for that matter, I don’t really... care about football. But it was the only way I could get into college so - there’s that.” 

“But what do _you_ wanna do? Like your hopes and dreams and stuff?” Nat leaned closer to Steve, he tried to think.

“My hopes and dreams are that you leave this poor man alone.” Clint murmured.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ty offer some of his drink to Tony but he refused almost immediately. “Um. I don’t know. I think my future is looking to be whatever I can get.” 

“I didn’t realise we had a poet in our midst.” Ty mumbled, so Tony pinched his knee that was between his legs, which resulted in him being a little too forcefully pulled off of his lap and beside him on the couch. Steve didn’t like that, not one bit.

“That’s fair. There’s nothing for anyone in this place.” 

“Not unless you’ve got a cozy scholarship.” 

“Wouldn’t you fancy that, Ty? easy college ride, nice job, wife and kids?” Tony smiled, pulling his feet up on to the couch and pushing a golden curl behind his boyfriends ear. Tonys eyes glossed over him intimately, and Steve could tell they’d known eachother for a very long time - although, he didn’t know whether it was hope, or the light, or the way glitter ran fell down Tonys cheekbone like a tear drop, but he could see a certain doubt in his eye.

“Yeah alright, how about I make you my housewife?” He smiled back, licking the pad of his thumb and wiping away some of the black under Tonys eye, which he didn’t seem to appreciate, scrunching his nose up and turning his head away.

“I don’t think Tonys ever touched a dish in his life.” Nat smirked, and a few of them laughed.

“What century are we in? I know how to use a dishwasher.”

“Tonys dad is like a kajillionaire.” Natasha said to him, as if she was telling him something he didn’t know already. 

“How about we don’t talk about that? Thanks.” Tony huffed, immediately shifting uncomfortably where he sat at the mention of his father. 

“Whatever. I need to go smoke.” Nat announced to the room, and caused Steve to dip in the couch more as she got up. “Coming?” 

“Coming.” Rhodey and Clint had both said in unison, and as they left Steve alone on the leather couch, amidst their chattering he could overhear Tony and Ty’s conversation from the other couch.

“Sweetheart could you get me a water?” 

“What happened to yours?”

“Garden management.” He must’ve pointed to the flowers in the glass.

“Oh. Right. Fine, because I’m so nice.” 

“Right you are.” 

Tony smiled crookedly, eyes following Ty as he stood up, observing his movements across the room as he left in a muddle with the others.

And then it was just them, alone, on two opposing couches. 

The music from the bar seemed much too close, too loud as the door slammed shut, blocking them from everyone else.

“Nobodies ever brought me flowers before.” Tony spoke out of the personal silence. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Tony bit his lip, like he was biting back a smile. “You’re such a gentleman. Not many of those around here.” 

“I just like watching you - not, like, you’re good at... Drumming.” 

His expression changed. His smile faded, his big dark eyes glossing over Steves face with his head tilted with a curious inquisition. 

Steve folded his hands together in his lap, finding it impossible to avoid Tonys gaze. _Why isn’t he saying anything? Why is he looking at me like that?_. 

Then he stood up, and began walking around the coffee table, towards him, each step was like a rock on his chest.

He stopped. Smiling down at Steve. 

“Do you like drumming, Steve?” 

_What the fuck does that mean._

“I’ve never tried it.” 

Tony spun around, and allowed himself to fall onto the couch next to Steve, his arm and his thighs bumbling against his, and looking at him with a wide smile. Steve wondered what he was smiling at, half of him thought Tony was probably just taking pity on him, or making fun of him, but he was awfully close, too close, there was a lot of couch left.

“I can tell...” The back of Tonys hand was warm, and he knew that because it was brushing against the back of his own. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you come here alone?” 

Steve paused, feeling as though his words, the slight shake of his hand might betray him at any moment.

“Last time I spoke to you, you were with your... friend.” 

“We didn’t want to come for the same reasons... I suppose.” 

Maybe if he asked, Bucky would come with him, he’d probably like to see Natasha, but it was weird, he was weird. 

“I like the music.” 

Tony smiled, although his eyes weren’t convinced.

“I thought you said you weren’t very punk rock?”

Steve laughed, mostly because Tony laughed, a low chuckle - _God, he’s close_ \- his hand fell out of his lap, and almost fell on top of Tonys, but he didn’t mind.

“Do you always ask so many questions, Tony?” 

“Only when I’m interested.” 

“I’m not all that interesting.” 

“That’s for me to decide.”

Steve looked at his lips, the subtle curl on them, some blue glitter glazing his upper lip. 

The door opened, and Tonys head whipped around almost instantly, the small indication of fondness on his lips changed to a grin with the flick of a switch. 

“My love. Come here.” Opening his arms, pulling his hand away from Steves, like a flinch, like he’d been shocked all of a sudden. 

Maybe they didn’t care if other people were uncomfortable, maybe most of their friends weren’t because they were used to it, but Ty and Tony needed a serious lesson PDA - once again it was as if Steve weren’t even there, he was invisible, had wrangled Tony into his arms like he didn’t want him to know that anyone else existed in the universe but him.

-

Surprisingly, Tony gave Steve his number, when Ty went to the bathroom Tony took Steves phone from his hands and demanded he let him put his number in. Tony was, arguably, the weirdest person Steve had ever met.

Unfortunately, Tony didn’t text him until a week later. He tried not to feel disappointed, why would Tony have any need to text him anyway? 

When Tony finally did text him, it wasn’t anything less than what he might’ve expected. But it filled him with excitement nonetheless.

_”Party at mine tomorrow. Bring games.”_

Steve forgot that Tony saved his name on his phone as _Toenee_ with a red and a blue heart - he suspected he was making fun of the way he pronounced his name.

“Ok?”

(...)

“Wait where do you live?”

Tony sent his address with a magnifying glass emoji.

“Thanks.” 

_”Bring Becky.”_

“Becky???”

_”*Bucky.”_

“U did that on purpose.”

_”Bucky with the good hair.”_

“???”

_”Beyoncé.”_

“Oh.”

(...)

“Why Bucky?”

_”Nat asked. She didn’t exactly say, but i can tell.”_

“Young love.”

_”;)”_

He thought hard about how to respond. He could send one back, but that might look weird, maybe make a joke? - _No, you’re not funny._ \- _I could be funny?_ \- He went back and forth, but by then it had been too long to reply without it being obvious he’d struggled thinking of a response. He subtly asked Bucky, and told him he was talking to a girl, to which he was informed that sometimes ‘reading and ignoring’ makes them more interested. He didn’t ask for his logic, or how he knew that, and accepted it before he ended up sending Tony a stupid picture or something else embarrassing.

And then it hit him.

Tony has invited him to a party, him specifically (Okay, and Bucky), he’d been wherever he was thinking of who to invite to his party and he thought of Steve? Maybe he was just trying to fill out space, but still, he’d begun thinking Tony was too cool for him. 

Everyone knew Tony. Everyone loved Tony. 

It was that weird sensation when you’ve never heard of anything or anyone before, and the moment you do, like the moment he first saw Tony, all of a sudden everywhere you go, whenever you go online all you see and hear is that thing. 

Like when two ‘roid monkeys asked Steve and Bucky where they were going the next night, and Steve felt kind of cool.

“Where are you going? We’re doing flip cup.”

“Party downtown. But it’s like an exclusive Tony Stark party, so you can’t come.” Bucky smiled, and patted Jake on the shoulder.

“Since when are you friends with Tony Stark?” He looked at Steve in particular. 

Friends? He wouldn’t say friends. Maybe they were friends. The more accurate description would be _’I’m hopelessly attracted to him and I think he only talks to me because he feels sorry for me and he has a boyfriend and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m straight’_ \- but he couldn’t say that, because everyone in that conversation _also_ thought he was straight.

So when they arrived at Tony Stark’s house, he felt a lot more high and mighty that he was at _Tony Stark’s house_, as-well as anxious, and sick, and excited. 

One thing about Steve, was that he didn’t party often. 

He knocked on the door first, Bucky stood behind him. His friend must’ve known he was nervous too, wrapping an arm around his shoulder after he knocked on the door. 

There was music booming through the door, but through his nerves all he could focus on was the gold number 12 on the door.

“Ha, look at that.” Bucky pointed at the floor. 

There was a brown welcome mat outside that read ‘NICE UNDERWEAR’ in big black letters. If he wasn’t so tense he might’ve laughed.

“Hi!” 

Blinking as the door opened in a flash, to a grinning Tony. He was more dressed down than usual, no makeup on his eyes or barely there black clothing, just a regular button down with some differentiating swirls and spirals over it - he was just as pleasing to look at.

“Hi. I brought Vodka.” Steve said, without thinking, removing the bottle from the crook of his arm and presenting it to Tony, who just looked at it with a crooked smile. He didn’t know what else to get, people brought alcohol to parties right? It was just common courtesy.

“I brought Twister.” Bucky held up the box, shaking it back and forth. 

“Cool. I’ve never played.” Tony hummed and took the box, and the bottle, before swapping both of them around, handing the box to Steve and the bottle to Bucky, ignoring their confused expressions. “Bucko, take that to the kitchen, Nats in there fixing herself a drink she’ll show you where everything is.” 

“No problem.” He walked around Steve and followed Tonys subtle point inside the apartment with no complaints, he figured at the mention of a girl he forgot he’d left Steve alone with Tony.

He wondered why he was still stood in the doorway, why Tony was still holding the door open with his hand, until he reached out, sliding his fingers in the collar of Steves shirt, it was blue, not too fancy, he nearly trembled when the tip of Tonys pointer finger grazed the skin of his neck in the process. 

“I like this.” 

“Thank you.” Steve choked out, his expression stoic as he wished for Tony to pull his hand away. When he did, it was graceful, delicate, despite his palms being covered in blisters and his fingers full of bruises. 

“You dress well Jock Oreo.” 

“I’m not even gonna pretend I know what that means.” He returned a smile as he followed Tony into his apartment - pondering how anyone could afford an apartment in Boston with no job considering they’d graduate from college soon, but then he remembered who Tony was, and how Ty might not have such a different background either.

It was a reasonable size, a large living room with blankets and other tapestries draped over the couch, a tv in the corner playing an assortment of alternative music videos and songs blaring out of the speakers, the place was worn in, lived in, but the difference between the nice furniture and the safe location almost made all of it seem... forced. As if whoever lived there was trying their best to make a home out of something, to make it appear comfortable, like there were long and good memories there. 

There was only the band members Steve had met that night, plus two others he hadn’t seen before, admittedly he’d expected a bigger party. Perhaps this was an exclusive thing, an intimate gathering of friends. _But we’re not friends_ \- he reminded himself.

“That’s Thor. _No, I’m not kidding, that’s his real name._ Now we’ve got two blond skyscrapers in the gang.” 

He stood up to greet Steve, and like Tony said, he was the only one there who was probably taller than him, hair flowing past his shoulders like those performers who grow their hair out so they can flip it back and forth on stage to metal music - maybe that was the intention, he didn’t know.

“Hello.” Oh, he had an accent. “Are you the one football player Natasha told me abo-“

“No! Shh! He’s in the kitchen. This is the _other one_. You know the one I told you about. Steven.” Tony cut in.

“That’s me. The other one.” Steve repeated, a little self-deprecating.

“It’s good to meet you, other one.” Slapping Steve rather roughly on the shoulder with a jovial smile across his face before trudging off in the direction of the kitchen. 

“I really hope that doesn’t become a thing.” He mumbled to Tony, and noticed Ty on the couch as he did, giving him an awkward smile to which a strained one was returned. 

“Trust me.” Tony tore the box away from Steves hands, pushing aside some bottles and empty red cups on the coffee table to make room. “You aren’t just the other one. Oh - I’m excited to play this later.” 

_I guess he’s not gonna elaborate on what he just said_. 

“I haven’t played it either.”

“Yeah, my family weren’t exactly the type to play games or anything.” 

“Yeah they didn’t really have party games at the uh - group home.” _Oh, why did I just say that._

Tony paused, staring at him like he’d said something wrong. His eyes were still just as big and brown and his lashes just as thick and curled towards him without all the accents, and they crinkled with lovely lines beneath them when he smiled suddenly.

“Okay. You win this round of ‘who had a sadder childhood?’” 

He smirked in a monotonous tone, and then looked over to a plush seat in the corner of the room where a slender boy with dark brown curls sat alone, but not unhappily. Steve noticed that Tony was very forthright, maybe he just didn’t care about being too personal, or too impersonal, or he just didn’t know any better, his sarcasm did just as intended, make people uncomfortable or distracted them from what he was truly thinking - his eyes seemed to tell a different story to his lips.

“Speaking of, thats Bruce over there. But he won’t speak to you until he’s got a couple shots in him. Or unless you’re Thor. He’s got a massive hard on for-“

“Okay, Tony!”

“Oh, so you did hear me.” 

“Yeah, actually. Hi.” He spoke shakily, looking at Steve for a moment before looking at his phone, probably so he didn’t have to force conversation.

“Hi.” 

“Now you know everyone.”

“I don’t know you.” He shrugged his shoulders, and hoped Ty wasn’t listening.

“What do you mean?” Narrowing his eyes and tilting his head in a curious way.

“Everyone seems to know you, Tony. But I don’t feel like I do, I don’t even know why you invited me here.” 

Tony chewed on his lip, glancing at his partner on the couch, accepting a hand that Ty held up, entangling his fingers in his for a moment before letting go with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re more interesting than you think you are.” He said simply. “But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Maybe if he just stared at him long enough, the right words would come to him, a resolution or a witty comeback, but he couldn’t. It was a mystery in itself, how Tony had this affect on him, he’d seen this boy at a gig, and he’d somehow managed to disrupt his life completely like a whirlwind of hormones and eyeliner and nicotine and bullshit.

And at the bottom of it, he didn’t know anything about Tony. He knew rumours about ‘life of the party’ Tony ‘fucking’ Stark who could down 8 Fireballs and then ‘hack’ into the MIT school records just so he could change this kids (who had apparently said something racially insensitive to Rhodey) last name from Broderick to _Gobbles Dick_ so that before a very important awards ceremony the principal read aloud _Brad gobbles dick_ before giving him his trophy. 

He knew Tony that had connections with rich socialites in New York but spent most weekends playing with the band in bars and clubs close to college, and he wore eyeshadow and screamed into a microphone behind Natasha about blood and sex. And he knew his preppy boyfriend who had a weird and dark aura who didn’t fit him at all, he knew that well enough, right? Or maybe it wasn’t his place at all. 

But right now, here, he wasn’t any of that. A natural version of himself that he’d been allowed to see that night, a softer self.

Still, he didn’t know Tony, not really. Not in the way he wanted to.

“Drink?” He said, like a conclusion.

“Okay. Please. Whatever you’re having.”

“You sure?” He beamed all of a sudden.

“As anything.” 

When Tony came back from the kitchen, Steve had expected something strong that probably tasted awful, just based off of the stories. Steve had found himself a spare chair next to ‘Bruce’ although he hadn’t said a word to him the entire time just as Tony said, but, to be fair, Steve hadn’t tried to converse with him, or anyone else sat around the living room drinking and chatting and showing each other things on their phones.

When Tony came back, holding two blue drinks, he kneeled beside Steves chair, which made him abundantly smaller than he was compared to himself standing up. 

“Okay. Okay. This is orange juice, Kool Aid, blue Monster, a dash of lemonade and I threw a lime in there too so it looks fancy.” 

It was very swampy up close, bubbling like it was something he definitely shouldn’t put in his body.

“There’s no alcohol in this?” He asked as he took it from Tonys hands, brushing his pinky with his pointer finger as he did and muttering a ‘thank you’.

“Should there be?” He raised his eyebrow, questioningly, but with a smile that suggested he knew why Steve thought that, because people had often associated that implication with him many times before.

“No, no. Is this what you’re having?” _Obviously, moron, he’s been sucking through a straw the entire time you’ve been gawking at him - oh, he has really nice lips though._

“Mhm.” Some of the strange liquid split over the rim of the red cup as Tony leant over to set it down on the coffee table, so he could begin digging into his back pocket - Steve just waited eagerly for what he was about to present him, still afraid to touch his drink that was bubbling like something gross in a bayou in Florida.

Something shimmered in a dull light between his fingers, until he flipped it on the top of his nail up to Steve, and he caught it, in his spare hand, maybe that impressed him a little. 

He opened his palm like a clam, instead of a pearl it was a small gold coin, with an engraved triangle and a ‘6’ inside it, bronze letters on each side of the triangle that read unity, service and another word that stood out particularly among the others - Recovery. 

_Oh_.

He turned the coin, gently between his thumbs like he’d been made aware of how delicate it was, even if Tony had just shoved it into his pocket. 

The opposite side read; _’God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference’_.

“Oh.” He said aloud. Tony was just quiet, digging into Steves palms to take it back into his own hands. Steve wondered why Tony had decided to share that with him, him of all people? Not that he should hide it, or be ashamed, because he should be proud, Steve was proud, and he wanted to hold him. But he shouldn’t think like that.

“Regret wanting to get to know me yet?” 

Steve looked at him like he’d said something appalling, although he didn’t mean to. “No? It’s an achievement, right? Like if you won a spelling bee... Or something, I don’t know.” 

The boy knelt beside him perked up, a quaint twitch in the corner of his mouth, “I won at not being an alcoholic?” 

“Why not?” 

He smiled when Tony did, because that’s when he thought he’d be allowed, that he hadn’t said anything too inappropriate. It was taboo, wasn’t it, to announce in a room full of people to a stranger that you’re a recovering alcoholic, but Tony did, to him, and it was fine, nobody died, and Steve felt slightly honoured to know that about Tony. He also felt honoured that he’d been allowed to make Tony smile the way that he did.

When Tony grabbed his drink once again, pulling it over to him he made a shaky recovery as he sat himself on the floor, spilling some over onto Steves knee. Leaving a dark patch in his jeans, 

“Oh -“

“I’m sorry.” His tone didn’t suggest it, his voice flat and a smile on his lips. And then his hand was on Steves thigh, grasped around the damp splotch on his knee.

“- It’s okay.” 

“Great.” He licked his lips, and proceeded to push his weight onto Steves knee as he hurled himself up to his feet, the patch where his hand once was felt too light without it, the hairs on his arms stood up, his chest heavy, like an aftershock. “Hey save some for me asshole!”

He jumped up, as if nothing had happened, that that moment had been a screenshot in a series of insignificant images to be swiped away because it didn’t matter to him. 

Jumping into the couch between Ty and Rhodey, who had a bowl of popcorn, diving his hand into it with as much ease as a hammer.

Rhodey wrapped his free arm around Tonys shoulders, he looked at him fondly, closely, almost protectively. Not that he looked _that often_ but Tony had more pictures of himself and Rhodey than him and Ty online, they must’ve become fast friends at MIT, _not that he scrolled back that far, obviously_. 

“Maybe eat with your mouth closed? Maybe that would be a sound idea?” 

Steve looked to see Bucky and Nat leaving the kitchen, they were laughing, she reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair as they walked, their inaudible conversation filling him with warmth, and dread. If he wanted to be with someone - a boy - or flirt with - a boy - he couldn’t be like that, not in public public, people would look down on it, perhaps that’s why he felt so comfortably uncomfortable around Tony and his friends, because they didn’t seem to care when Tony and Ty practically groped one another so casually. But Steve cared, about that, but not because it grossed him out. 

“And maybe you should stop wearing that God awful cologne sugarbear. It’s not impressing anybody. Least of all me.” Tony seeded, as his head fell on his friends shoulder. 

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress you then isn’t it?” 

He swivelled suddenly, gracefully - Tony was fun to watch, no matter what he was doing, he didn’t know if that was creepy but he had a way of making every movement, every word, every look exciting. It could be the unpredictability of him, maybe he wanted everyone around him to be on their toes in his presence, after all, the worst thing you can be, is boring. 

_I’m boring._ He thought.

Tony had mismatched red and blue socks, which were now floating beneath Ty’s chin, laying across Rhodey’s lap, taking claim to both of them. 

Objectively, Tony had very small feet, compared to his at least. and then Ty bit his toe, so he looked away. 

Natasha steered away from Bucky at the last moment to talk to Bruce, who keenly looked away from his phone to chat with her. Steve was glad to have someone rescue him from this impossible awkwardness.

“On your Larry again?” Slapping on his shoulder, in a way he’d only be comfortable with his friend doing.

“Not anymore. But, you see to be doing alright with Natasha. I don’t imagine she was giving you vocal lessons.” 

“We’re getting there. You know, we have a lot more in common than you think.” He leaned in as if he needed to be quiet, but the music must’ve muted him to the others anyway, glancing over to her and Bruce, having a less enthusiastic conversation seemingly. “What’s that you’re drinking? That’s a disaster cocktail.”

“Tony made it for me. I haven’t tried it yet.” It was still too fizzy for how long he’d been holding it. 

“Well. Try it.” 

Then he did. It was what he imagined battery acid tasted like. Not even that bad, just, sugar, lots of sugar.

He put it down, and Bucky laughed.

“We can trade if you want. I got this JD and coke because I thought it would make me look more... sophisticated? But i hate it.” 

“I don’t think there’s any point trying to look sophisticated if you’re drinking out of a paper cup. But okay, sure.” 

“Cool.” His long haired friend sighed as he handed Steve his drink. “You doing okay?” 

“Okay? As in-“

“-As in, just let me know when you wanna leave. I ain’t gonna hold it against you.” That meant, ‘you look ridiculously nervous, please try and talk to someone before you get existentially sad.’

“I’m fine -“

“OKAY!” 

Everyone turned to the sudden shouting, and loud bustling, only to see Tony, pushing the coffee table against the tv stand, placing himself in the space he’d created with his hands on his hips.

“We got games.” Raising a persuasive brow, he stopped and looked at Steve, who, without thinking, let out a chuckle.

“Was that necessary?” He heard from Ty.

“Yes.” 

While everyone proceeded to get more drunk and progressively louder, sitting or slumped around the living room - they were attempting to play various party games that people had brought. Only some of them actually involved drinking, like this card game where you have to take a shot every time you fail at doing a task or choose who has to take a shot if you succeed. Steve only got chosen twice, and they must’ve all known Tony well enough that they never chose him, even though he was drinking shots of grenadine syrup. 

There was this adult version of ‘Pictionary’ called ‘Dick-tionary’ that he didn’t partake in because he didn’t know them well enough to be drawing various sex positions on a tiny whiteboard - despite Tonys begging, which filled him with warmth, and nervousness, his small voice pleading _’But you’re the only one that can actually draw!’_ he still refused out of shyness alone.

About half way through, most people (although mortally drunk themselves) noticed that Ty was way past his limit. Tony attempted to pull him up, throw his arm around his shoulder to get him to move, all he achieved was allowing Ty to fall into an angle where he could sloppily kiss Tonys neck and murmur inaudible things into his skin. Tony laughed, of course, but Steve could see he was irritated, something about the way his hands were strained upon his chest, uncomfortably and way way too familiar. 

“Cmon buddy.” 

Tony looked as surprised as Ty did when he lifted him off the couch with ease, gentle, but heavy handed enough that he could let him lean against his side and guide him at once - Tony let him go, smiling gently at Steve. 

“Uh. Bedrooms over there. I’m gonna get a bucket.” 

Attempting not to cause too much of a scene, although Bruce and Rhodey has somehow ended up laying over one another anyway, the thumping guitar drowning out snores and burps - Steve guided Ty to him and Tonys _bedroom_. Honestly not how he thought he’d be spending his night, but really, it wasn’t like he had anything else in mind, being too busy worrying about a crowded house full of strangers and migraine producing music.

The strangest sensation in the world had to be going into a different room during a party. Maybe it was just him, but the way the music faded out like the speakers were flooded and the people changed and atmosphere was just completely disjointed from the main setting was always unnerving. 

And anal, too. He imagined that was also a very strange sensation.

Tony and Ty’s room was surprisingly neat and plain, it was possible they’d cleaned it especially for guests, but regardless, the sheets, the walls, the cabinets were all too empty, they didn’t share any of the colour or posters or bracelets scattered everywhere like someone may think. It was sort of comforting, because in all the places Steve had stayed in his life, most recently his college dorm, he wasn’t allowed to decorate, or pin things to the wall, nothing of the sort. 

Because people often said that your bedroom represents who you are, what you like, your soul and spirit. But that wasn’t true for him at all, and he knew it wasn’t true for Tony, so it was refreshing, although he wondered why it was so bare.

“Wherrrr es Tony?” The shorter blonde slurred as Steve sat him on the bed, he was much tougher to budge and much more lean than he initially thought. 

“He’s comin’. Don’t worry.” 

Ty fell back onto his pillow, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Thank gawwwd. I cannot _stand_ all dose asshoooles.” 

Steve didn’t reply, even if he knew what to say, he wouldn’t say a word.

“They Tony’s friends so I - I _deal_ with them you knooow? Not good enough for him. Not even you. Only me.” 

“Uhh...” 

Steve didn’t know a lot about relationships, he’d only ever been in one, but he didn’t think that was healthy.

“Alright alright I got water and a bucket!” Tony announced, diving into the darkened room past Steve. Dropping the bucket and the water bottle onto the bedside table with an abnormally loud thump, before running around the bed to open a crack in the window. “Geez Ty you pushed yourself too far again, maybe when the doctor says not to drink on that medication you should listen to her.” Tony sighed, pushing his hair off of his head dotingly, suddenly making him feel like he was intruding on a private moment, even more so when Tony dug into Tys pocket, ignoring his protests. Thankfully, he was just retrieving his phone, and leaving it on the bedside table. “If you need me sweets, call me, or someone. And don’t jump out the window.”

From what their shadows said, it seemed like Ty tried to pull Tony down, for a kiss or maybe just a hug, but Tony wriggled away, easily, like he’d done it many times before. It was when they began whispering sensitive ‘love yous’ to one another that Steve decided he should probably walk out the door.

But Tony caught up with him, surely. Closing the door on Ty and everything else weird he felt in that room, looking onto the living room, filled with laughs and drinks held in the air, spilling over the rims. Nat, Thor and Bucky had ended up dancing in a weird lonely line, but they looked happy.

“One down.” He cornered Steve, stopping in front of him and forcing him to a halt. 

“Wouldn’t be a party if not, right?” That might’ve been a tad inappropriate.

“Apparently so. Unfortunately Ty and I have an obligation to take care of eachother or something so...” He chewed the inside of his gum for a moment, scrapping the rest of his conversation and tilting his head towards Steve as if he’d just had an epiphany. “Um. I’m gonna go smoke, on the roof, wanna come?” 

“Why the roof?”

“Well, Ty doesn’t know that I still smoke, and I could do with the quiet.” 

“Hm, me too.” Tonys eyes glimmered in delight when Steve accepted, but he tried not to act as if it was anything special, Tony probably would’ve asked the nearest person so he wouldn’t have to be alone, right? “Okay, but you know I don’t smoke right?” He asked as Tony slipped on his shoes and began walking to the door. 

“I know.” He threw a smile back at Steve over his shoulder, one that he knew would never fail to pull him in. And then there he was, just as expected, following him. He followed quietly, up the spiral stairwell, the music and the laughter becoming a distant thump, with each floor getting a good idea as to what the neighbours could hear, and if they were used to it. 

Everything he did was grand, like he could never afford a dull moment, barging out onto the roof, pushing both hands against the metal door and stepping out into the night like it was his own. Steve could honestly believe that all the stars and the fireflies belonged to him only.

“This is my place.” He strode along the concrete floor, all the way to edge. Effortlessly,  
sat on the edge of the low wall, throwing his legs over the wall, he didn’t seem to care at all. Tentatively following him, he sat beside him with his back to the city, Tony seemed to notice how he didn’t let himself hang over the edge like himself. “But because you’re here, I guess it’s ours now.” 

_Ours?_

“You never brought anyone else up here?” 

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’ as he pulled out a cigarette, knowing not to offer Steve one. 

“Well I’m honoured.” 

Tony laughed, provoking Steve to tilt his head and squint in confusion. 

“You’re a dork, Steve.”

“Wow. That’s low.” He scoffed, with a smile. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Okay then. Come here. We’ll play a game.” Tony scooted across the wall, his hip touching Steves, he had to grip onto the edge for support, maybe the shock from Tony touching him might knock him backwards and fall down eight floors, it was cold. 

“A - a game? I thought you’d be tired of games after... um, what is it?” 

“Put your head on mine.” 

“Huh?”

Tony shuffled a little bit more, glancing down at Steves lips a little shyly before letting his forehead fall on Steves. 

“Oh okay. What now?” 

“Okay. So, my mom used to do this to me when I was little. You said you wanted to know me more right? So for entire time we are like this, we have to tell each other secrets, like take turns. If you ask, I cant lie. If I ask, you can’t lie. But the rules don’t apply when we aren’t head to head. Make sense?”

“That’s pretty straight forward, I’m just thinking isn’t there any more practical way we can like... link togethe-“

“No. We have to stay like this.” 

“If you say so. Why would your mom wanna play this with you? I’m guessing she made this up?”

“Wanted to know where all my bruises came from.” Steves expression changed, he almost  
moved away but thought not too. It was difficult to tell what Tony was feeling, his eyes were genuine but his lips trembled as if they didn’t know whether to smile or not, like he didn’t know right from wrong. “See? That was a secret, or a truth. Get it now.” 

“I - yeah I get it. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Anything said when our heads are together cannot be repeated to anyone else.”

“That’s fair...” 

“You want me to start?” 

“Yeah - um, why are we doing this?” 

“There’s no better way to get to know me than this.”

“Do you play this with everyone you meet?”

“No.” He answered instantly, and surely. 

Maybe this was exactly what he wanted, this would skip all the awkward phases and small talk and general social things that he was objectively terrible at. 

And. He was close. Very close. “You’re very to close to me.” _Why did I say that out loud?!_

A smirk formed on Tonys lips, it was dark, but in the lights flashing through the city he could see the shine on his lips after his tongue swiped over them.

“How personal can we get?” He asked, hoping it would distract him.

“As personal as you wanna get.” He dragged out the words on his tongue, and Steve felt his chest tighten. Steve nodded, forgetting his head was against Tonys for a second and causing his to move up and down at the same time. 

“Hm. Okay. Firstly, this is a little unfair since I already said one, but since you’re a newbie, I’ll make it easy on you. I play the piano, too. Now you go.” 

“Um. I don’t play anything.” 

The brunets smile was comforting, but shifted, and somehow Steve knew he was looking for something different.

“I really fucking love game shows. Like, The Price Is Right, Match Game, Pyramid. My all time favourite is Jeopardy. Trebek is the coolest guy in the world and I wanna meet him.”

“You think Alex Trebek is the coolest guy in the world?”

“Hey this is a judgement free zone!” 

“I’m not judging, I just, I think you’d be a great game show host.” 

“You think? Actually, I know you do. Because you can’t lie.”

“I cant.” He admitted with a smile. “Alright I guess it’s my turn. Like I said earlier, I grew up in several group homes. And I didn’t watch too many game shows because there was one TV that only had VHS and we only had tapes that people donated.” 

“Shitty parents put you there?” 

“Uh no, no parents. Orphan.” 

“Oh.”

“There was this like charity which sent some of us to school. I met Bucky there. His mom was a godsend, I couldn’t always stay with them but she carried on helping me get through school. And then I got a scholarship. And now I’m here. With you. Is that everything you wanted to know?” 

“No. We’re only scratching the surface.” 

Steve blinked. What more was there to him that he could offer Tony to satisfy him? Tony thought he was more interesting than he knew, but he couldn’t imagine why.

“I think i’m an addict because of my dad. You know, genetics and inheritance and all that. It’s  
weird.” He looked away, but considering he couldn’t actually pull away from Steve, he swallowed, the lump in his throat constricting as he locked eyes with him once again. “When did you lose your virginity?” Asking with a sudden smirk.

“19. You?” 

“13.” His nose twitched when he said it, the dry smile still looming on his face. “Who to?” Tony asked.

“My ex girlfriend. Her name is Sharon. She’s nice, more than nice, I guess, it just didn’t work out...”

“Was it because you like guys?” 

“What?” He pulled away, almost immediately. “No -“

Tony looked at him as if to say, ‘you pulled away, you’re lying.’ So he gave in, with a huff, resting his head gently back on Tonys, for some reason it had quickly become to feel so normal.

“It wasn’t because of that.” His voice low and begrudging, looking down at Tonys thigh. “What about you then? Who’s you ‘lose it’ to?” 

“...A friend of the family.” He chewed on his words and his smirk, watching Steves face for reactions, but he wouldn’t let him have them for too long, Tony would never do that, he knew how to control whatever people focused on if he wanted it to. Surely Steve would be the same? Right? 

Tony spoke like it was all a game, even if his eyes told a different story. 

So Steve thought, he could play this game too.

“I don’t care about sports at all. I hate it. But I feel guilty about it, because I know there’s so many people who would want what I got.” 

“...Ty has a problem, and I don’t know how to help him.” 

“How do you know Ty?” 

“I’ve known him since elementary school. He was my best friend, like hardcore best friends. One time in seventh grade we cut our hands and smushed them together to show we were connected - my dad went nuts. We didn’t really talk when I left for college but he does business, and we needed someone to help with the band if we were gonna be serious. Things were just... different than before.” 

“That sounds... Intense.” 

“He’s intense. That’s why I like him so much.”

“I really don’t like rock music.” He said suddenly. And then smiled, and Tony smiled back. And then they didn’t stop.

“I really don’t like whatever music you like.” 

“I like your nail polish.” 

“Thanks. I think you’re very attractive.” 

Steve stuttered on whatever he was planning to say, his blush clearly satisfying Tony. 

“I - uh...” 

He swallowed and forgot all rational choice, his body giving in to the game. 

“I used to have an eating disorder.” 

_Jesus FUCK, why, why, why would you tell him that?_

He thought Tony would laugh, or tell him that wasn’t possible, or say something about how he felt bad or how he didn’t feel bad and that was stupid, he expected him to look at him like he was wrong, but he didn’t. 

His smile didn’t falter, he didn’t even flinch or move away, he just gently shrugged his shoulders and looked in his eyes through thick curled lashes. 

“Being perfect is overrated. And, I’m clearly the closest thing you can get to perfection.” 

The regret rose up out of him, a weight off of his shoulders, so light that he let himself laugh with Tony. Tony didn’t make him feel ashamed, and he felt like he could cry.

“I almost died.” 

“What? Really?” 

“Well I cant lie on the stand! Unbutton my shirt.” 

“Why?” He choked out. 

“Just do it.” 

Steve modded again feverishly, his fingers grazing against the bottom of Tonys shirt, dipping into the slit in the middle and sliding open one button.

“From the top, sleaze-ball.” 

“Right. Of course.” His hands were as shaky as the words leaving his mouth, moving up the length of Tonys chest so he could slip open the buttons leading down from his collarbones. Each one exposing more of Tonys chest, by the fourth button, Tony shivered at Steves touch, letting out a playful giggle, bumps rising on his skin. 

With each button, he revealed a scar, a white zigzag between his breasts. 

“What happened?” Steve whispered, without realising, his thumb traced along the edge of the scar, Tony didn’t seem to mind.

“Last year I OD’d. When I was in the hospital, they found that I had an infected lung. Pneumonia. From drugs.” Some cars on the street below begun honking, loudly, the breeze blowing through them. “So, I woke up in the hospital, three days later, with a hole in my chest. Because I was dying and nobody knew, so they just did the surgery.” 

“My mother died of pneumonia. You’re really lucky Tony.”

“Lucky isn’t a word I’d use to describe myself... I’m sorry.”

“I was young, and you’re here, right? You don’t need to be sorry.” 

“Right. Well, the story goes, I woke up, very confused and feeling very, very shitty. My dad was pissed, he didn’t even ask if I was okay, he didn’t ask why, he didn’t wanna know. I thought I wouldn’t hear the end of it, you know, he was like: _’You fucking junkie waste of space ain’t no son of mine blah blah blah’_...” 

“You’ve been sober for less time than you overdosed...” 

Tony seemed slightly bitter that Steve had made that observation. 

“I wish almost dying was enough motivation to stop me from hurting myself. But I don’t _know_ when to stop.” 

“Well you stopped.” 

“I never _stopped_ being an addict. Did you stop having an eating disorder?”

“...No. It’s not gone. It’s just sorta like background noise now. It’s all background noise.” _Except for you._ “You know... Now that I know that, I don’t think you should smoke either.” 

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.” 

They were silent for while, sharing a quaint, indescribable gaze. It was terrifying, he thought Tony was terrifyingly beautiful and maybe that was his point.

“I... One time, I made a pros and cons list, it was full of probabilities and calculations and it was for the possibility of me killing myself.” He swallowed, Steve stayed quiet. “One of the cons was that my mom would be sad. But... I tore it up, purely because I couldn’t figure out whether my dad would be happy or sad that I was gone and whether either of those scenarios was a pro or a con.” 

The city seemed awfully quiet, silence between like a thread pulling, wanting to break. And both of them knew that was the end of it. But Steve had one more secret, one he was begging and urging to say, looking at Tony, he knew he finally had a reason to keep going on. 

He wondered, desperately, how he could tell Tony how much he wanted to kiss him. Or hold him. Whatever he would allow. 

But he didn’t say anything. 

Then his hand was warm, looking to the source, he saw that Tonys bruised and calloused hand had encased his, wrapping his fingers around his fingers and squeezing gently. 

He realised then, the purpose of this, of Tonys ‘game’. Of Tony bringing him onto _his_ rooftop and making it theirs. 

Tony wanted to scare him away. But it didn’t work. 

His troubled face made him look even younger, comforting himself and Steve through their hands held together, but his eyes just asked; _’Why, why haven’t you left yet?’_, and Steve wondered why it mattered.

When he let go, pulled away, swung his legs over the edge and began walking back towards the door, it was like a switch had been flicked. Vulnerable, open Tony was a brief privilege he’d been allowed and he didn’t know when he’d get to see him again. 

And even after all he’d heard, everything he’d said, he was infatuated. 

“Do you still think I’m interesting?” Steve called after him. 

Tony stopped like the wind had pushed him back. “I don’t know.” Throwing his head over his shoulder one more time. “How will you know if I’m telling the truth?” And with one more flash of his signature, mysterious smile, Tony turned and left into the stairwell.

When they got back into the apartment, the laughter and the shouting was gone, the music must’ve been turned down but it filled out the room, just like the limp, passed out drunk bodies strewn across the apartment. 

Natasha was spooning Bucky on the couch, Rhodey somehow sat upright in a chair, his head tilted to the side in sleep, Thor’s long and large body spread across the floor next to Bruce’s, while Clint was sat at the small dining table, his head on the surface as he drooled onto it. 

“Guess we missed the party.” Tony hummed, stepping over Thor and Bruce as he made his way to the centre of the living room. “Ah. We didn’t play Twister.” Studying the box and shaking it as he picked it up from the coffee table, pushing aside empty cups and tissues and candy wrappers. 

“I mean... It doesn’t seem like anyone’s in any rush.” 

“I like the way you think muscle man.” 

They spent about fifteen minutes reading through the instructions, well, Tony did, because the English instructions had been torn out, so he read from the Italian pages. Then Steve learnt that Tony speaks two other languages - to which it occurred to him that maybe he could get to know Tony himself.

Learning that maybe Twister was better with more people, but still laughing along the way, winding their limbs around each other on the floor whilst the music strummed in the background, the only thing lighting their bodies was the TV, flashing above them. 

Laughing freely, their hands and their feet brushing against one another, sensitive touches comforted by gentle laughs in the darkness, a sense of solidarity in their joint difference from everyone else, knowing more now about each other than they’d ever told anyone else.

Left foot blue, right foot red, right hand yellow and left hand blue. Tony was above Steve, hovering over him and the mat sprawled across the carpet.

In the humid of the apartment, he could feel Tonys breath on his skin, on his lips, it was hot, his lips were parted - so plump and pink. Steve knew he was staring, but it was okay. 

“It’s your turn.” Tony whispered, although his eyes glossed over Steves, sinking into his. 

“I guess it is.” He said in a shaky breath.

If he could kiss him, right then and there, he would’ve. He would’ve kissed a boy for the first time and he wouldn’t care about his weird boyfriend, he would accept Tony for everything he was and -

“Tony?” 

They leapt apart, looking towards the sudden presence of another voice in the room. Ty stood in the bedroom doorway, rubbing one of his eyes. 

“H- hey baby. You okay?” He stood up, leaving Steve on the floor, alone. 

“Yeah, yeah just had a mo-“ 

Tony grabbed Ty by each side of his face, kissing him harshly and fiercely, so much so he stumbled backwards into the door frame. 

Every ounce of hope in his gut sunk into the acid in his stomach into nothing. The worst of it being that he knew he had no right to feel that way, Tony had known Ty his whole life, Tony had met Steve three times. 

Ty opened his eyes for a moment, but Steve was, he saw him looking at Steve over Tonys shoulder before he pulled him into their room, shutting the door, filling him with bile. 

It was fine. It was always fine. He was used to being alone anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks so much for reading! comments are always appreciated <3 
> 
> songs referenced:  
you used to say(holy fuck) - the front bottoms  
lonely boy goes to a rave - teen suicide  
i threw glass at my friends eyes and now i’m on probation - destroy boys  
oh my god - ida maria


	2. bottom

_Okay, okay. Nothing to freak out about. It’s nothing, it’s normal. It’s just porn_

_You’ve watched porn before, maybe this is not the same kind of porn. But it’s just porn and everyone watches porn._

_Bucky is asleep, headphones are plugged in._

_Okay._

_Pornhub. Gay. Bareback. Cumshot. _

_Okay. _

_Okay that’s a lot of dicks._

The most tedious part about watching porn was finding an actual video to watch. He wasn’t picky, not really, he was still a _guy_, but this was uncharted territory. Like seriously, there’s so much freaking porn but sometimes it requires a certain level of specificity to actually get you going. Otherwise you just end up thinking about how that woman’s surgery made her nipples look weird and wondering how they got in that position, or that this mom who’s supposedly fucking her stepson looks about 20 years old.

He found a video of two young lean guys filmed on a grainy camera, there was a mousy haired man and a brunet, which was fine. Perfectly fine. 

There wasn’t a particular reason Steve had never watched that kind of porn before, he was busy, he had a roommate, who was also his best friend, he also would not want to be caught watching big giant hairy dudes bone in the bed right next to him. 

There was a problem, right about now, however. And that was that, yes this video is hot, and kind of scary, it just wasn’t doing it for him in the way he thought it would. 

He muttered a curse to himself, and hoped it wasn’t too loud. This cursed boner wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

He locked his phone, and let it fall onto his chest, pushing out a huff of annoyance.

The image of the slim brown haired actor on his back was quickly fading from the back of his mind. Until he had a harrowing thought. 

_Would it be wrong to think about Tony like that?_

_I mean, he won’t know. Right? _

_But I’ll know, and everytime I look at him I’ll only be able to think about how gross I am._

_Fantasies can’t hurt though, surely?_

He wrestled with his own persistent imagination and belligerent morals for a good while until his boner went away for him. 

He turned over in his twin sized bed, disgruntled and restless, the only thing soothing him was the image of Tony in his brain, the memory of his hand holding his, how his palm was soft and the insides of his fingers rough from the sticks. He liked how much smaller he was than him, how when he was on top of him he seemed inconceivably tiny in comparison, and how that’s how he might look if -

_Fuck. It’s back again._

Steve didn’t sleep all night. Because he was thinking of Tony. 

And trying not to jerk off over Tony. 

His crush was turning out to be a bigger problem than he needed. Dealing with college was problem enough - now he had this stupid crush on a pretty boy who had a pretty (shady) boyfriend and it was beginning to ruin his life.

He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t avoid him, even if he wanted to because Bucky wanted to see Natasha. The job he’d gotten at the bar the band usually played at, called The Great White Shark (Tony called it ‘Sharkys’ for short) also didn’t help, he blamed his subconscious for wanting to have a valid reason to see Tony. Sometimes when he thought about Tony he wanted to vomit and then Tony would text him some stupid picture of a frog with no context and he would want nothing more than to go see him on stage. 

When he got up in the morning, flickers of light shining through the blinds between both of their beds, Bucky was already awake, sitting at his desk with a bowl of cereal, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. 

Every morning was mostly the same, they’d been lucky enough to get roomed together, but after a while it becomes tiring to wake up each day and say ‘good morning’, ‘sleep well?’ and gradually just began getting up and going about their days. But they didn’t need to, it wasn’t necessary.

After Steve got up, thankfully, boner-less, got dressed, brushed his teeth, exercised his regular boring routine and wound up back on his bed, Bucky had either decided to start talking to him or was just speaking aloud to himself.

“You doing anything right now?” 

“Right now? At this very second?”

“I meant today.” 

Steve glanced at the sketchbook on his own desk, he had a free period in he was going to use to draw, maybe sit outside the library. There was a quiet spot tucked in a corner under a shallow tree and he would try and get there before some drunk/high couples got there first and started fingering each other. Which was surprisingly normal on campus.

“No.” He admitted, sitting up in bed, it wouldn’t creak because the mattress was as hard as a rock. “Don’t you have that creative writing class Friday mornings?” 

“Yeah, exactly.” Bucky exhaled, swivelling around in his chair with his cereal in his lap. “I told Tony I’d bring over this crazy Korean drink I found for the after party tonight - tastes just like his trash cocktail.”

“Can’t you just - you know - give it to him at the party?” 

“I told him I’d take it last night so he could give it a whirl you know and now I feel bad but I don’t have time.”

“Okay... And?” 

Bucky gave him an obvious glare, to which Steve shrugged, ignorantly, all though he knew what he was about to ask.

“Take it for me now?”

The words Steve dreaded came out and provoked an annoyed sigh, seeming to surprise Bucky by his expression. Steve usually gave out favours like cheap hard candy but the underlying problem was: he wanted to see Tony so bad that the thought of actually seeing Tony made him want to vomit. 

“Do I have to?” Steve sighed.

“Why, what’s wrong? Do you not like Tony, is that it? ‘Thought you liked Tony?” 

“Tonys fine. I don’t like or dislike Tony. He’s okay. He’s a little obnoxious, talks a lot. He’s okay. Can’t you just do it later?” 

The last time he actually spoke to Tony, a part from just watching from behind the bar while he performed, Steve had existentially embarrassed himself in front of his (_stupidly, irritatingly annoying_) crush by knocking an entire glass of coke down his jeans which were thankfully already dark blue. He was pretty certain that Ty had somehow staged the whole thing, he came over to the table to talk to himself, Bucky and Bruce after the show (he often stood alone at the sidelines watching, probably feeling too important for everyone else) and somehow the glass fell off the table as he turned and walked away. 

Tony appeared, not moments after, laughing and obviously not afraid to stare at the large wet stain on Steves crotch as he was desperately rubbing it with a cloth, the first thing he said to him being _’Glad you’re excited to see me big guy!’_

At least it couldn’t get worse than that, right?

“Pleeeeeease? You don’t have to stay and talk to him?” That sounded like an okay enough plan. In and out, clean and simple. A lot less dirty than that sounds. 

“Sure. Okay.” 

“_Yes_! Thank you! I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He nodded assuredly at Steve before shoving a spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth.

“That’s what you said after you persuaded me to come on a double date with this girl you were chasing and her friend - remember the one with the giant mole on her nose - and then you ditched us and left me alone with her.”

“She was nice!” 

Nice in the most literal sense. A little awkward, polite, okay looking, just, nice. Steve had had a ‘nice’ conversation with her about some tv shows that he was never going to watch until they both came to the conclusion that Bucky and her friend were not going to come back and neither of them had anything in common so she too left Steve at the 50s themed diner which he didn’t really mind, they had caramel-oreo milkshakes and he liked the music.

“She was very nice, still didn’t make it any less unbearably awkward. But don’t worry I’ll do you a favour so you can hook up with a girl, again.”

“I’m doing it for Tony! He needs his juice!” 

“You’re only friends with Tony so you can get close to Natasha.” Rolling his eyes as he spoke.

“Hey, that’s not true. Why are you friends with Tony?” 

“We’re not friends.” Steve put it blankly, sitting up on the bed with a guttural groan, as if the obvious and bitter lie was punishing him with some horrible acid reflux. The only reason he said it is because he knew Tony probably didn’t think of them as friends, why would he? “They’re your friends. I just hang out with them sometimes.” A sigh was pushed up out of his mouth as he stood, walking past Bucky to grab the white plastic bag on his desk which did have a bright orange and pink bottle with lettering he didn’t understand all over it inside. 

“Okay, well it was you who managed to rent out that bar you work at so we could have the party there.” He chimed, swivelling in his chair. 

“That was just a favour. I’m going now. Go to class.” Pressing his foot down on the wheels of his friends chair gently, pushing him an inch in jest, a soft and reluctant smile on his face.

“Byeeeee. Thank youuuuuu.” 

Steve hummed back in the same tone as he left the room, already hearing some distant rap music from the common area and some chatter that he’d gotten used to hearing and used to avoiding. 

The sounds he heard as he stepped down the corridor towards Tony and Tys apartment were... very different and much worse. 

For a cosy ‘nice side of town’ apartment the walls must’ve been incredibly thin, either that or the - _ahem_ \- ‘activities’ going on inside were particularly... rigorous.

It only got worse when he got closer to the door, unrelenting hard slaps and an oppressive _thump, thump, thump_ that did not cease. _Oh God._

_Just turn around and leave. Don’t listen anymore. Make it stop - Oh my god._

Apparently, the horrible and real reality that Tony probably, maybe, has sex, real gay sex with his actual boyfriend was just too much of a shock to his fragile (hasn’t had sex in months) system that he just stood there in the hallway in a cold sweat listening to it, to them. 

_Jeez the walls are thin._

_Just say a couple of Hail Marys and go. You should not be listening to this._

It really hit him when it stopped altogether. 

And then quickly, almost too quickly, there was the sound of a door opening from inside, and then the increasing noise of footsteps.

_Oh my God run away before it’s too late - you’re gonna be known as a weird perv who listens to his friends fuck outside their apartment when he hasn’t even been invited over._

Spinning on his heels, Steve tried to make speed back down the hallway, hearing the click of the front door opening and small voices, and then - 

“Steve?” It wasn’t Tony, it was Ty. Which for some reason was worse. He knew he couldn’t just keep walking, how did he recognise it was him from the back of his head, his stomach flipped over and over again at the sound of his own name, churning inside him as he slowly turned back around. 

Oh?

_Oh._

It was Ty, in the door, with someone else, someone who wasn’t Tony. 

This was bad, real bad, he wasn’t supposed to have known any of this. 

“Oh hey... Ty...” He looked over the blond standing outside the door, he was muscular but still lean, in gym attire but Steve knew they hadn’t exactly been exercising in the traditional sense. “I came to drop something off, I thought nobody was home.” A translucent lie, but it was better than ‘I heard someone getting railed and ran away’.

Perhaps his expression was showing clear disapproval, because the stranger quickly said his last goodbyes to Ty and began walking away, giving Steve a brief head nod as he passed him. 

The worst thing, though, was the look on Ty’s face. 

No remorse, no worry of that he’d just been caught, he knew Steve knew, and just bore the look of a teenager who was sitting in the principals office getting a lecture but he just found the whole thing ‘funny’.

“What is it then?” The curly haired blond crossed his arms over his naked chest, gesturing towards Steves bag as he cautiously walked back over to him. 

Still confused and increasingly angry on Tonys behalf, with a mixture of wanting to exit the situation as quickly as humanly possible, he stuttered and forgot the entire reason he came. “Huh - oh. It’s a drink. Bucky was meant to bring it over yesterday. Thought Tony would still be here bu-“

“He’s in class. Maybe next time, bring things over when you’re supposed to.” 

_Maybe don’t sleep with people you’re not supposed to._ He thought bitterly, but decided not to say anything out loud, Ty taking the bag from Steve with as much passive aggressiveness that Steve had when he held  
it out.

Steve knew Ty didn’t like him, and Ty probably knew Steve didn’t very much care for him  
either. As much as it pained him to have that conscious reminder that he had no right to interfere with or comment on Tonys relationship - no matter how much he wanted to, the times he’d seen them quietly bickering, how Ty handled him like he was a toy and now, this. 

“Well. See you tonight. I’ll give this to Tony when he’s back.” The aloofness in his voice stirred up something violent inside him, but he better not, he couldn’t afford to get into trouble and lose his scholarship, aside from Tony hating him forever. And then when Ty got to his door, he turned and smirked at Steve, but it wasn’t just a goodbye, it was a challenge.

_’I know you won’t say anything._’ The dark of his eyes said. ‘_What are you gonna do?_’

_Okay._ Steve thought. _If that’s how you wanna play it_.

-

That night, there was going to be a ‘battle of the bands’ type gig, mostly for small college groups, it wasn’t very competitive, the winner being based on how loud the applause and screaming and shouting was - the prize being a grouping for unlimited cocktails and breadsticks for life at a local Italian restaurant. Apparently most of them were just doing it for fun and publicity, apparently _The Avengers’_ reasoning went from ‘Who doesn’t want guaranteed validation?’ (Tony) to ‘Fuck yeah Georginos breadsticks are next level’ (Clint) so it was really fair game. 

The local theatre they were playing at was only a block away from the bar Steve worked. Yes, maybe he did try extra hard to convince his manager to let the band hire out the place for their friends, maybe he did really enjoy the look on Tonys face when Steve told him he did it. But he was just being nice. 

Unfortunately, Steve had a feeling that the night wasn’t going to go so smoothly. 

The show had gained quite a big crowd, and opposing bands had to stand amongst them while their competitors performed, the lights low amongst the crowd below, enough people around so people could smoke weed without being spotted and thrown out by the staff.

Tony went to the bathroom. This was his moment. 

It didn’t feel good at all, it felt terrible, he almost second guessed even turning up so he wouldn’t have to face it but he didn’t want to be a coward. Especially not in the face of someone like Ty (who, by the way, didn’t turn up to the show). 

He managed to pull Natasha aside, she was tipsy and very excited, but sharp enough to be immediately concerned when Steve wanted to speak to her personally - despite the most privacy they got being at the edge of the crowd against the wall with the dealers and wallflowers.

“I’m guessing this must be important?” She had to stand on her tiptoes to talk into his ear, or else he wouldn’t be able to hear her. 

“Kinda. Yeah. I don’t really wanna be in this situation.” _Especially when I have a big giant stupid crush on one of the parties involved and hate the other party so much I would gladly watch him get decked over and over again_.

Objective, he was being objective. If you care about someone, you should maybe do something when someone is treating them like garbage. If he had just pretended he hadn’t seen or heard anything, what would he be? A coward, and he wouldn’t deserve to be close to Tony. And really, as much as he hated it, that’s all he wanted.

Maybe it would all go to shit, maybe Tony would blame him and still hate him regardless, but atleast he would know, right? 

Once Steve explained the story to Natasha, and she pulled away, standing back on her high heeled boots, her face was enough to tell him she wasn’t surprised at all, that this must’ve happened before. Instead of shock and rage, she just looked tired and annoyed. 

“Fucking prick.” Sighing in agitation, running a hand up through her hair like she wanted to pull it. Was it really that common that Ty did this? Or that him and Tony were just constantly swinging up and down, back and forth and nobody could stop it? “I’m gonna talk to Rhodey. And then I’ll find Tony. For now just... stay out of it.” 

“Wait,” He held onto her arm loosely as she turned back towards the crowd. “Shouldn’t I tell him myself? I was the one who was actually there, he would believe it then, right?”

“Trust me, he’ll believe it. Whether he’s gonna shoot the messenger is the question, so just lay back, alright?” 

He didn’t really want to disobey her of all people, and reluctantly obeyed. 

The next few series of events played out like a video game. Steve stood in the middle of the crowd with Bucky, who was talking to him but he couldn’t really listen, as his eyes were watching Natasha around the room. How she approached Rhodey, whispering in his ear, seeing his expression go from generally nonplussed to pissed off in a matter of seconds - From the right hand corner of the room, Tony emerged from the bathroom, all of their eyes set on him, but all he could do was stand there. Natasha and Rhodey approaching him together as he headed towards them, Steve tried to appreciate the last few moments of ignorance on his face, blissfully unaware, he’d been excited too even though he’d just watched him from afar, keeping his distance out of shame of the knowledge he held and didn’t wish to have.

Nat had her hand on Tonys shoulder while Rhodey whispered in his ear. 

His eyes landed on Steve in the crowd, but quickly darted away once they’d made eye contact.

He braced himself for the worst, swearing, anger, sadness, tears, anything. 

Nothing.

A simple nod, when Rhodes pulled away. A shrug in his shoulders that caused Natasha to drop her hand.

Like the news had just washed over him, as if it was nothing, as if it was just a fable or a made up tale. 

Maybe it was because the commentator had called the bands name out, so they all had to get on stage. He watched him while he sat behind the drums, obviously pretending like he had as much to set up as Rhodey, Clint and Natasha, a blank, oddly neutral face.

“She looks cool tonight, right?” Bucky asked from beside him, and he realised it was the first time he registered him all night, one thing was on his mind and it certainly wasn’t how Natasha looked.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded apathetically, trying to appease him.

The band was set up, they were ready to go. And then the worst, most sickening thing happened, something so quaint that would somehow haunt him. 

Tony smiled.

Like he usually would, wide, taking up the whole room, bright, and beautiful. 

It was horrible.

And then it occurred to Steve in that moment - Was it all an act? Was any of it real?

The rooftop, the things Tony told him - 

Maybe he was used to having his trust betrayed.

Maybe it didn’t phase him anymore, maybe it never did.

But when he played he smashed with a newfound fire in himself, like he could bang up enough friction from the sticks and the rubber and the metal and his fingers that he could spark a flame and encase the entire theatre in his own internal rage. Everyone in the room was burning to death except for him, him and Tony. 

No, Steves eyes were bleeding out of his skull, like Tony was some cursed painting in a horror movie and Steve was the fool who’d unlocked all of his secrets, a fatal, flaming mistake. 

Oh God, what had he done?

“-_They might claim the best things are hidden! But I was here, you came to me!_”

Then, with blood in his ears, his heart thumping with the speakers, no noise, just an oppressive clanging of drums rooted deep in his chest, he knew he was never going to betray Tony, even if it hurt him, even if it scalded him.

_Fuck._ There was no way out now. However many ways there were to say ‘I’m in way too fucking deep’ - He meant all of them. 

Knowing he was the only one who could see Tonys rage, his hidden sense of heartbreak - Maybe that was egotistical, his friends knew him longer than he had, but he knew Tony had let him see _him_, honest, vulnerable, fiery, _him_. Maybe it would end up killing him, but he’d stopped caring, all there was was... 

Him.

Fuck Ty. 

Hopefully Tony would realise, hopefully he wouldn’t just shut up and take it, live his life away from that asshole and let him -

“Burn!” 

Apparently he spaced out more than he thought he did, because Tony and the rest of the band had left the stage and found them  
in the crowd. Tony seemed engaged in conversation already, but Steve didn’t quite catch what they were speaking about, because he went quiet when he saw Steve. 

He definitely wasn’t the only one who felt the tension in the hot and confined air.

“Hey. Steve.” 

Everyone, who must now all be caught up, watched in anticipation at the expected confrontation. 

Taking a deep breath, trying not to be too obvious of his own anxiety, he looked down at Tonys wide, dark, expectant eyes, and down his neck. There was traces of bruises under his jaw, yellow stains marking him as someone else’s and a chain looped around his neck, a small ‘O’ at the base of his adam’s apple - somewhat disturbing under the circumstances.

“Can we still go to Sharkys?” 

That was not what he was expecting. 

“H - Yeah, course.” Tearing his eyes away from Tonys and glancing around at everyone else who seemed just as relieved and or confused. 

“Nat, you were great. All of you were, but, yeah.” Bucky cut in, not meaning to, Natasha replied with a sedated smile, perhaps more focused on the wellbeing of her friend, even if he appeared to be fine.

“Cool. Let’s go.” Tony declared, ignoring them and passing them all by. He would try to be careless, he could try all he wanted, _but I’m no fool._ Steve thought.

“Wait,” It must’ve cut through him like a knife, one he didn’t deserve to bare. “Don’t you wanna wait and see if you won?” 

“No. Who cares?” 

Just like that, that was it. 

More people had shown up to the bar then expected. Steve invited some people from college, some from his dorm, Tony invited people who invited other people which was also the same for every other member of the band. 

The most prominent guest, at least to their inner circle, was Ty.

They’d filled out the corner of the bar in a booth, which was uncomfortable and not like enough to seat everyone so they’d pulled over another small table and some chairs, Thor and Bruce were filled in (when Tony went to the bathroom) so it only turned into an even more awkward game of ‘Who's gonna talk first?’ when Ty walked over to the table. 

The abrupt sound of Tonys chair scraping back definitely had the most effect. Passing by his partner as if he were a ghost. 

The next was the door to the bathroom slamming across the room. 

Heads down. Don’t look at him. Like shunning, isn’t that an Amish thing? They were all apparently and effectively shunning him, Steve and Rhodey were the only ones who made an effort to at least look at him in mild disgust.

“You should probably talk to him.” Rhodey nailed sarcastically, before turning away to continue his conversation with Natasha again, deciding the _cheater_ wasn’t worth his time.

Tony must’ve parted the bathroom door a crack after dramatically slamming it so Ty could enter, he had a way of being petty sometimes that made him laugh but it didn’t seem appropriate then. 

Appropriateness, and taste, and moral standing, apparently didn’t matter at all though, as everyone at the table got up out of their seats towards the bathroom door. 

The bathrooms were all unisex, there were no stalls so it made it much easier to hear. 

Natasha put her ear against the door first. Eventually everyone finding a space according to their height where they could effectively listen, Thor being so tall he could lean over Bruce, Natasha and Rhodey on the right side of the door, Bucky and Clint claimed the left. 

“Don’t you think it’s somewhat wrong or even... I dunno, unethical to eavesdrop like th-“

“_Shhhh_!” Clint replied.

Staring in disbelief seemed not to change anything. If you can’t beat em, join em. 

Steve put his head against the door gently, towering over a crouching Bucky. 

_”... Again, Ty? Really? I mean, Jesus fucking Christ I can’t believe - no actually I can. Fuck you.”_

_“Now I don’t know what THEY told you, but it’s bullshit. Come on baby I was just-“ _

_“Just what? Sticking your dick where it shouldn’t be?! Fuck! You!”_

_“We’ll talk this out alright?! You know I would never purposefully hurt you, Ton-“_

_“Who was it this time, huh? Was it that guy from Starbucks? No, that little prick at that party who was just sooo interested in having you do promo for his ‘band’. No, I got it, it was that fucking personal trainer wasn’t it?”_

There was a silence, Steve accidentally shared some shifty eye contact with Thor and averted his gaze to the top of Buckys head. He needed to wash his hair. 

He shouldn’t be listening to this.

_”Riiiiight. I knew it, uh, here’s an idea - how about you maybe don’t fuck every blond power bottom that smiles at you in the gym?! Atleast this time you cant blame it on being wasted.” _

_“Look, Tony, you cant say shit about that alright? Who was the one mopping up after your sloppy ass every night, picking you up at 5am every night because you don’t know where the fuck you are - if I remember correctly, it was me. And then when you decided to OD, who practically had to beg their parents for more money because Howard cut off your fucking allowance so you couldn’t feed your coke habit Tony?!”_

_“... But we’re okay now - I have money...” _The tone had changed, it became more difficult to hear Tonys voice through the door, he wasn’t yelling anymore, the fire in his voice depleted almost instantly into a crippling charred bundle of sticks.

_“Yeah I know you have money, all those ‘favours’ you do for Obadiah are really paying off aren’t they?”_

_“Stop.”_

_“He’s just real generous isn’t he -“_

_“Stop.”_

_“- Maybe next time you can ask him for a bonus.”_

_“Okay. I get it... I’m sorry.”_

No -

This isn’t right. 

_”No, no I’m sorry. You know I’d never - to hurt you, ever.”_

_“Yeah.” _

_“Cmon, tell me you know I’m sorry.”_

_“Whatever.”_

How many people had tried to crush Tonys spirit before he started letting them?

Why else would he be so ready to let someone who is supposed to care about him, walk all over him like he’s even less than a doormat.

It made his blood boil.

Sounds of rustling and bumping began from behind the door, causing everyone to fall out, sharing concerned looks - as though they had any right to it, all looking guilty above anything. 

_”Ah! Ah! He- I’m still mad at you.” _

_“I know, I’m sorry, I love you, you know that? Don't you?” _

_“Yeah, um -“_

The door shook, more like banged, locked into place. 

_”You - you really think we’re gonna fuck when you literally had your dick inside someone else this MORNING? Fuc - trying it on with my when you have someone else’s shit under your fingernails, leave me alone.”_

The relative guilt had quickly changed to panic as the lock began clicking again inside, knowing they’d be caught snooping and invading their friends privacy. 

Steve wasn’t any better, unfortunately.

He told himself he was, because of how much he really wanted to knock Ty out until he wasn’t so pretty anymore, so he wouldn’t be such an objective piece of human garbage.

Some could call him an evil genius, he managed to cheat on Tony, multiple times, get outed and somehow end up with Tony apologising to _him?_

Fuck that.

Tony bundled out of the bathroom, the sleeve of his tank top hanging off of his shoulder, he had a couple short jagged scars there that he hadn’t noticed before, just like everything else about Tony he’d never seemed to notice until now.

Tony had stopped in his tracks when he saw everyone congregated outside of the bathroom, pretending to be looking at their phones or one another, but Tony wasn’t that stupid, evident by his scoff and sad, bitter smile. 

His eyes tracked over Steve in particular. His fault. He made it even worse now. His lashes were painted dark, atleast he hadn’t been crying, otherwise it would've been really obvious.

“Well. Hope you all enjoyed the show.” 

_Moron. Now you’ve totally gone and fucked it up._

They all parted for Tony as he stormed through them as if they were scared they’d all set alight. 

“Classy.” Ty directed at Rhodey more than anyone for some reason.

“Eat shit.” He replied.

Natasha fed him back a similar look, except Ty turned to Steve. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but he’d dealt with his fair share of obnoxious rich boys who think that their elite martial arts classes make them a fearful competitor and that they’re not hiding behind daddy’s plastic. 

Also he was like 5’7.

He had nothing else on his mind though, he could put aside Ty’s possible (and maybe imminent) ass kicking for Tony. 

He wouldn’t give Ty (or _Tiberius, seriously, what kind of fucking name is that?_) the satisfaction, following in Tonys path towards the exit, he’d dealt with worse than all this. Probably. 

Figuring he might have to spend the rest of the night looking for Tony, he was unfortunately pleasantly surprised to see him sat on the pavement against the wall of the bar, knees clutched to his chest and wielding a cigarette.

He looked cold. And weary. 

A subtle approach, that might be better. Don’t be too full on. Maybe make a joke - _No, that’s a terrible idea._

“I think I know what they mean when they say artists are all messed up.” 

“I guess you’re just as fucked then, Van Gogh.” Tilting his head up towards Steve and the night sky after he spoke, letting the cigarette fizzle down to his lips. 

Tony was impossibly lovely, in all the wrong ways.

“Sure hope you didn’t come out here to lecture me or talk shit or just generally be an ass.”

“Have I been an ass?” 

Tony didn’t respond. 

“Would you have rather I never said anything about it?” 

Tony didn’t respond, only turned back to the cold hard floor.

“Tony... why are you with him?” 

“Didn’t realise I was being interrogated here.” He said promptly.

“I - I just don’t know how anyone could put up with that. This obviously isn’t the first time he’s done this and I -“

“Do you wanna know about the night I bumped into Ty again?” 

_Not really_, he thought. But he was fair, and reasonable, most of the time. So he nodded, courteously with some discomfort, irritated as he took a seat on the floor beside Tony, assuming the same position so he didn’t take up the entire sidewalk.

“I was at a nightclub with Rhodey and ‘Tasha. I was drunk and high, like usual, I don’t even remember what I took, just anything I could get my hands on really cause the place was pretty tight. I met this guy, he was kinda too old to be in that kind of club but he invited me to his place and - the others weren’t around so they couldn’t say anything, so I left with him. I couldn’t even remember getting in the cab with him... So we were at his place and i was completely shit faced and I thought we were just gonna have sex because... That’s just what I thought. And then he asked me if he could piss on me. And I said yeah, cause I thought he was kidding, and I was so mortal I didn’t think otherwise. And then he did.”

Tony was shivering, trying not to look Steve in the eye - he could’ve been more cold than anything, he was wearing ripped shorts and a ripped top. 

He thought it was better if he just didn’t talk anymore. He’d already seen how much good that did.

“I tried to walk home. Or back to the club, I don’t really know. I bumped into Ty, it was like the first time I saw him in years since he went away. I guess it all kind of made sense then, like I was supposed to see him. He was there, then, he hadn’t been for so long but then he was there and nobody else was. I guess in some way he’d always been there.” 

Tonys palm opened out for him, a faint scar etched diagonally into his palm, he wouldn’t allow Steve to have a very good look at it, balling his hand up into a closeted and tight fist again. 

So yeah, maybe Ty and Tony had some weird Blood Brothers shit going on, but Ty was taking advantage of it, and if you’re going to use a symbol of unity and trust that’s supposed to last for a lifetime, don’t cut the palm of your hand. Because it will fade.

“I guess, we are a lot alike in some ways. But unlike Ty I’ve grown to have... unparalleled self restraint.” 

Tonys eyes grew and shrunk again and again as he looked at Steve, as if he was trying to say what his words quite couldn’t.

“...You don’t have nobody, you know.”

“Yeah, who, then?”

_Me._ “Uh, like, Rhodey and... Natasha and... they all care about you - uh,” He was sick of watching Tony freeze, so he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to him before he could protest. 

Tony just stared at it, the entire black denim length of it, so Steve waved it a little to imply it was for him. 

When Tony just kept staring, like Steve was showing him something completely incomprehensible, he flattened it out, reaching forward, tentatively, as Tonys eyes flickered in confusion - he draped it over Tonys shoulders, and his chest and his knees and his arms, it practically covered him completely in the beetle position he curled himself up in.

“I think you’re supposed to wrap it around my shoulders, like in the movies?” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Tonys mouth, quirking as if he were forcing it away.

“Your back is against the wall...”

“Oh, yeah. Well I like it like this.” 

“You look cozy.”

“Too bad we both cant fit under here. Now you look cold.” 

“I’m alright, I’m not the one all... punked up.” If there was any way Steve could be _less_ cool he wouldn’t need instructions.

And then Tony snorted, wrapping Steves jacket tighter around himself as he let out a chortle. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

He could be an idiot every day if it meant he could make Tony laugh, even if it was at him, or only a little bit. Because Tony had probably the best smile he’d ever seen in his life, most probably, like if there was some scientific calculation that measured how great someone’s smile is than Tonys would probably be the greatest, or whatever. 

“Maybe, but atleast you’re smiling and you ain’t got black lines all down your face.” Steve smiled back, gesturing to Tonys eyes.

“That would look cool, actually. But you’ll never get a tear out of me Rogers. Nobody makes me  
cry.” 

“There must be something that can break that impenetrable wall of yours.” He pointed to the jacket wrapped around Tonys body with a sly smile. 

Maybe he said something, or stirred something. A thought or a doubt, pissed him off, cheered him up, he didn’t know, but Tony leapt to his feet, pulling Steves jacket on himself. It was comically big on him, _My clothes aren’t that big are they? And he’s not that small..._

“No. No I don’t think so.” His voice was breathless, he wobbled on his feet like the wind was ready to knock him over, there was something not quite right about the way he looked. Steve stood too, met his shaken glance from the other side of the sidewalk.

He wondered how many times they’d do this. In the cold. On the sidewalk. On a rooftop. Staring, quiet, sharing the silence like the words were on an untouchable thread in the night air. They either had really bad communication skills or it was a _thing_.

Tony was pale, his chest rising up and down out of his clothes like he was trying really hard to breathe, to keep something inside that was trying to crawl out of him. Steve felt himself doing the same thing, scratching and burning at his throat, tingling in his fingers was the urge to just reach out and... hold him. 

But he didn’t.

And then Tony turned around and ran in the other direction, he gave him whiplash as he took off so suddenly, ripping the air or any possibility of a word from his mouth.

“Tony!”

He ignored him, or he didn’t hear, he didn’t stop running. 

Throwing a muted curse down at the floor, his feet picked themselves up. Because he wouldn’t leave Tony alone, running away wasn’t an option.

People on the sidewalk cleared a path for them, as sparse as they were that time of night, drunk and shouting and pushing around as he teared down the concrete, Tony like a firefly in a field he was trying to catch, not knowing where to go in the open nothingness.

He could run, alright, but what from?

Each street lamp he passed, each lonely person with a bottle in their hand and sad story that nobody else in the world cared about began to blind him after a while, until he was just mindlessly chasing a vision of black and white and shimmering gold, everything he wanted but couldn’t have, something so perceivable to the eye but impossible to grasp. 

As long as he was there, chasing him, even in a never ending loop and kaleidoscope of colours, then he had a reason to keep fighting. He knew it then, Tony was his reason to fight.

When he finally caught up to him, Tony bent over and shallow against a tall wired fence, hunched over and gasping for air, he was met with the greatest surprise and greatest reward he could have wanted, Tonys acknowledgment. Even if it was just him straightening his back and staring Steve in the eye, questioning and confused, glistening in a worried _’Why? Why you? Why me?’_.

_Fucking hell. I’m head over heels and there’s absolutely nothing in the world or the universe I can do about it._

“Jesus, Tony. What the hell was that about?” Exhausted, he sighed, he ought to go to the gym more if he was gonna have to do this regularly, he didn’t realise having a one sided crush on Tony Stark meant getting a free workout after you’ve already had three beers and poked at a plate of nachos. They had made it about four blocks away from the bar, on a crowded street lit up from brick to brick, bodegas and strip clubs and a food van in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Never heard you use so many curses before. Im hungry, starving, actually. Are you hungry?” He could run his mouth just as much as he could literally, that’s for sure, already dodging Steves question and his presence and pacing down the street. “Is that insensitive to ask, you know, cause of...” He didn’t quite gauge Steves reaction but cut himself off anyway. “Sorry, I say dumb stuff when I’m... When I’ve -“ 

“Just ran a marathon? It’s fine. I’m not hungry.” 

It wasn’t insensitive, maybe he had a habit of saying things he shouldn’t, annoying or repulsing people until they left him alone. That was his game all along but Steve wouldn’t buy into it.

“Hm. This guy up here does really amazing pretzels. You want some? I’m gonna get some.” His nose was a little red, his lips plump and a similar shade, what was the saying? _’Watch the hands, not the mouth’_ or something like that, that probably didn’t apply but, how could he not? It was so hard not too. “You know pretzels were invented by a monk? So it’s basically a spiritual snack.”

“Basically the equivalent of a communion wafer.” 

“Exactly. Are you religious, Steve?” 

“No, not really. But I believe in God, I guess, is that strange? Do you?” 

“No.” Tony replied, with complete certainty. “I don’t think he’d very much like me anyway. Hasn’t exactly done me any favours. Hello Brian.” 

Tony had stopped in front of the food truck, that only sold pretzels and churros (but they were out). Pretzels weren’t really something he’d go for if he wanted a late night snack, neither did anyone but Tony apparently, because there was nobody lining up for a salty pretzel in a dodgy neighbourhood at 11:32pm. 

“Tony. What do you want?” 

His tone suggested he had more of a problem than a server genuinely asking what the customer wanted. If Steve knew as many people as people that knew Tony, he might actually be able to classify as a popular jock and not a nobody.

“‘M hungry, why, not happy to see me?” 

“No.” The man was blunt, even as Tony folded his arms over the counter, tilting his head to the side almost childishly. Nobody could ever tell anything was wrong, he teased his eyes at Brian and his cinnamon stained apron and greasy stubbly chin.

“Awww. Do I still not get my discount?” 

It seemed that Tony, who apparently could charm the shit out of a snake, was not getting through to this overweight middle aged man. Steve just watched, Brian glared at him like adults look at teenagers who are yelling on the street, like he was already deciding in his head what kind of guy Steve was. 

“No, scram.” 

“I said I was sorry like a million times... please?” 

“No.” 

“You sure like that word. Fine, whatever, jeez you oughta go home and see your kids _Brian_. Okay, what is it, 5$ for five?” 

“No. For you, 10$.”

“What the hell man! I - Ugh, alright, whatever.” Tony threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head at Steve dramatically in disbelief, as he rooted through his pockets. Steve watched, slightly amused and concerned and saw his expressions change from irritation to wide eyed disbelief. “Fuck, I left my wallet at the bar.”

_Man. If i had any money I could’ve been all chivalrous and got him his fucking pretzels._

“Oh, me too. Damn.”

“Frick...” Tony chewed, Brian shrugged his shoulders apathetically at him, which mustn’t have helped his mood, he replied by scrunching his eyes and nose and mouth at the man in agitation. Then he stepped closer to Steve, really close. “Okay, just, follow my lead, alright?” Whispering, Tony patted Steves chest, but that wasn’t quite enough the prepare him for what Tony was going to do next.

For a split second he thought Tony was hugging him.

As he collapsed into his arms.

Not really, he didn’t actually faint, just pretended to. And very convincingly at that. 

“O - Uhhhh Tony?” All of the brunets weight had hung onto him, like he could really be dead. He didn’t quite know what following Tonys lead meant, or how far he had to go. How far Tony would go for a fucking pretzel. “Ohhhh noooo.” 

“_What the fuck are you doing?_” Tonys whispered into his chest, aggressive, but playful above anything else. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. _”Improvise.”_

They did improv in drama class every Wednesday for a whole semester and not to brag but Steves performance was... 

He sat in the back and drew courtroom style portraits of his overly enthusiastic drama teacher with her white lady dreads and entirely purple wardrobe, she was kind and said ‘Yowzers!’ a lot like it was a thing.

Long story short, Steve wasn’t getting his oscar nom any time soon.

“Hey, hey guy -“ Steve wavered the man in the truck over, seeing concern and confusion show on his face, he felt kind of bad for him. “He has a problem - problems with his lungs. I need a hand, you know, help?”

“Is he on that shit again?” He threw his apron off, slightly angry as he stepped out of the truck. A big woft of powdered sugar and cheese and onion followed him out, leaving the door wide open so the smell eventually diffused into the air. 

“No! No he’s clean, y’know.” Forgetting for a split second that this was all make believe, he gently lowered his body onto the pavement. Props to him for playing a very good passed out person. 

Was this Tonys idea of fun? 

Was it wrong Steve was kind of enjoying it?

There are probably worse ways to distract yourself, might as well distract someone else.

Brian knelt down beside Tony, as Steve stood back, beside him. The man lowered his ear to Tonys chest, pretending to know what he was doing, because if he did he wouldn’t have given him enough time to raise his head and start attempting to communicate with Steve.

He smiled up at him. A part of Steve wanted to say _‘You absolute little shit’_. 

Tony nodded in the direction of the van.

Steve shook his head ‘no’, not even realising that he was smiling back.

_’Then what the fuck am I doing this for?!’_ He implied with the shaking of his head, although he had to drop dead a second later when Brian sat up. 

_Dear God._ Steve began to think. _Whatever kind of test this is, I don’t think bringing Tony into my life is going to give you what you want._

He prayed as he deftly snuck into the van. It was a mess inside, dead bugs on the counters and what Steve thought was a gram of coke under the cash register. Never mind that, he grabbed about six pretzels off of a ring and shoved them in a bag, more thrilled than he should be. 

Gave Tony the go look as he crept out of the truck, and in almost no time at all, he scrambled to his feet, knocking Brian on his ass as he stood.

He grabbed Steves free hand, and laughed, and ran with him this time over. 

And that time it felt good.

“Sorry!”

“Sorry Brian!” Tony mimicked back and laughed harder, grinning wide and bright at Steve to the point his tongue would peek through his teeth, and it made him feel so warm and so thankful that he would thought he would enjoy his new persona as The Most Infamous Pretzel Thief on this side of Shady Neighbourhood, NY ™.

Because that was the first time he’d felt alive in years.

How much could he run? Apparently, another two blocks, to an almost identical street. 

“Th- that was awe- awesome, Stevie.” Trying to catch his breath another time. Letting go of Steves hand as they stumbled onto a new road with a different story and a different set of rules they could break together. 

“That was a lot of effort for what - six mediocre New York street pretzels?” 

“You haven’t tried them!” Digging into the white grease stained bag and giving Steve one first, then one for himself, messily scrunching the top of the bag and shoving the rest in the crook of his arm. “I’ll make it up to him anyway, that bloated creep.” 

“He didn’t seem too happy to see you.” 

Steve took a bite as they began their stroll. They were ‘good’ at best, but he didn’t have the heart to tell him that they weren’t the greatest thing he’d ever consumed or something. So he just nodded and smiled when Tony looked at him for a confirmation.

“I worked there with him for some time a little while ago for... reasons. Aaand long story short, I put weed in the batter and sold them on the side. I thought it was an innovative idea, space cakes, weed brownies they were old news, I had fuckin’ weed pretzels and they were _amazing_. He got mad I didn’t let him in on the action and he fired me, threatened to call the cops and everything, took all my precious pretzels and sold them himself.” 

A chuckle came out of Steve as he ate. “I suppose I feel kind of better having robbed him now. We’re like a team, you and me. You’re the amazing, genius, pretzel cook and I’m the pretzel thief who, I don’t know, takes out all the competition.” 

“It’s like _Breaking Bad_ but with pretzels instead of meth.” Tony smirked. “Thanks for calling me an amazing genius.” 

“Ah, you heard that? I hoped you wouldn’t, didn’t wanna boost your ego anymore.”

“Wha -“ Tony scoffed, hitting Steves broad arm with his stale snack. “Wow, where’d this Steve Rogers come out from? A little rush of adrenaline and one petty crime later and now you’re _El fucking Chapo_.” 

He was so nice to look at like this. His fringe curled over his forehead, hair tangled by his cold red ears, lips and nose to match, swallowed in Steves jacket - smiling, dazzling and lovely smile. No audience, no shitty boyfriend, just the two of them. Where fragments of the real Tony could shine through and shards of Steves could crack and pierce through too. 

He was guarded, still. He liked to remind Steve of all the horrible things he thought _he_ had done as if he wasn’t a victim and he was the monster that brought those things upon himself. Maybe he thought Steve bought into it too, and looked at him in disgust and annoyance like he wanted.

Hopefully, in those brief moments of laughter and pure glee where nothing else mattered, Tony would forget that he didn’t want to be that way with Steve, and would keep laughing and smiling in that way he does until he remembers that he doesn’t want Steve to like him. 

Steve just wanted to know why Tony kept trying to push him away, when it was so lovely like this.

“You’re terrible at acting, too.” The shorter one added. 

“I mean you pretty much took the easy job. You must’ve had a role as a possum in a school play or something because you play dead a little too well.” 

“Was that meant to be a good line? Or a burn? I hope not.” 

“I don’t know, shut up. Maybe I don’t wanna be mean to you.” 

“I guess, I would understand if you did. But why?” 

“Well... I...” 

Thankfully, to his relief, Tony either got distracted or didn’t want to hear Steves answer, speeding ahead of him towards a figure shrouded in blankets and sweaters upon sweaters, a shopping cart beside him loaded with various bits and bobs, a very old looking antique lamp too.

He was glad Tony didn’t let him answer, in a strange way, not glad Tony had so much control over him.

“Hi Wally. How’s things?” 

“Same old. You still messing around with that kid?” 

“More like he’s messin’ around with me. I’m hanging out with Steve.”

“Hi.” Steve smiled, politely. Receiving another disapproving nod in return. _Do I have something on my face or what?_

“You had dinner?” 

“Nah.” 

“Ah, alright. Here, take these. I dunno if we’re gonna be able to eat em all.” Tony handed him the bag of pretzels before he could get back any complaints. “And don’t think about putting it in your little book thingy because we stole them from Brian.”

“Ah, fuck Brian. But stay out of trouble, don’t be a moron.”

“Steves idea.” Tony smirked. It was difficult to see the man on the ground, sat far away from any store or streetlamp, Tony seemed comfortable anyway in the dark. 

“Don’t act all innocent.” 

“Trust me, I’m not.”

He dug into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled carton of cigarettes, expecting him to pull one out, instead he offered the box to the man. 

“Do you want these? I’m uh... ‘Tryna quit.” 

“Really?” Steve interjected, as they made the transaction.

“Yeah...”

Tony just smiled at him, in a way that said, _Don’t even try to figure me out. I won’t let you._

“Well we better be going. Steve’s got a really bad case of premature erectile dysfunction, gotta go pick up his boner pills.” 

“Nice one. No, no I haven’t.” 

“We’ve all been there.” Wally grovelled from the darkness.

“Exactly, nothing to be ashamed about pal.” Tony patted Steve on the back, and out of instinct, Steve immediately shrugged him away - for some reason it brought to his attention that it was the first time that Tony had explicitly touched him, he’d already gotten wind that he wasn't much of a hugger or generally overt in showing affection (not that he really paid that much attention but it always looked like Ty did all the touching during their usually scheduled acts of PDA) so it stood out to him more than it should, and it showed on Tonys face too. It also didn’t help that he’d rather not have any sort of conversation with him about boners and or if his works or not because, trust him, it did, especially with Tony in the equation but that for that he _was_ ashamed.

“You’re amazingly irritating sometimes.” He sighed. 

“At-least that’s only sometimes - and you don’t know how much of a sucker I am for backhanded compliments.” Twirling around Steve but making sure to leave a sizeable distance after his reaction to the contact. Worry immediately set in him, would Tony avoid any physically contact with him altogether just because of a flinch? It seemed excessive, but he could see it through Tony’s seemingly casual exterior.

He thought maybe Tony was trying to test how long he could keep up with him for. How long it would take for him to annoy Steve into submission. 

“Ah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He said with slightly too much grovel in his voice, it wasn’t meant for Tony, not really, he had an undeniable way of being able to tease and prod and tire and somehow still manage to lure you in, crave to be adored by him yet he was far from sycophantic. Attention-seeking however? maybe. “Tony, can I ask you something?”

He quickly dodged a couple of bulky men crossing his path even though he had the right of way, like he knew instinctively to move out of the way. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the unplanned petty theft or my sociopathic boyfriend _or_ the things he was saying about me in the bathroom since you were so keen to wait outside.” Pointing his finger as he walked and talked, keeping clear of all eye contact, purposefully trying to miss Steve’s faultiness attempting to breach through him. 

It was wrong. It was invasive, he knew that, he did it anyway. He’d hurt Tony and for some reason been proud of him for admitting it. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, I- “

“You say my name a lot. It’s very individuating. Anyway, carry on.”

“You know I’m surprised you’re not a vocalist or something, considering how much you love the sound of your own voice.”

“Um that doesn’t sound much like an apology to me Rogers, now you owe me double. Here, I’ll show you how to do it: I’m sorry I told a hobo your dick doesn’t work, that was not cool, I’m sure it works fine.”

_Again, annoying._ If he was _’that kind of guy’_ he would be overtly flirtatious and obnoxious, say something like _”You wanna find out?”_, but this wasn’t some testosterone fuelled 2am tinder conversation and Steve wasn’t that kind of guy and that was definitely not appropriate. 

So it seemed that apologies weren’t even easy with Tony, not that they should be, but he was so good at turning simple gestures into part of his big distraction game – don’t feel too much, don’t show it, get over it, look, look, I have something shiny, oh please get lost in my big brown lovely doe eyes and forget anything ever happened, forget that everything isn’t okay.

“Tony.” 

He stopped on the sidewalk, facing the road, his hand gently on the tip of Tony’s elbow, bony, even wrapped in Steve’s jacket. So, Tony stopped with him, looking as confused at the sudden touch as Steve was at having made it. 

But Tony was looking at him now, really looking. In the eyes, facing him, leaning into his hand even if he didn’t realise – no quick glances or non-engaged smirks, his eyes were wide and full of – full of – 

Fear.

Steve let go, but he was sure he wasn’t the thing Tony was frightened of.

“I’m really sorry, Tony, for all of it. I feel like, I could have kept it to myself and nothing would be different from now. I thought I owed it to you, the truth, but nothing’s changed and I- “

“Trust me. Steve. It’s changed. Everything is changing.”

Everything.

“You’re going to stay with him though.”

“And my life will go on. Everybody is so wrapped up in their own hedonism that they think everything needs to end with a fight or a confrontation or a sweet resolution, but these things just happen. Right? If I just left than whenever anything got tough than I’d be no better than… Well, it wouldn’t be right, is what I’m saying.”

Tony spoke with such certainty, that he could make people believe that he himself believed what he was saying, a casual saunter that always lingeried in his voice, careless and vaguely persuasive. A flicker of gold and red in his eyes as a police car passed down the street gave himself away.

“Well what about you?”

“What about me?!” He snapped, turning away with a usual point of stubbornness. He wouldn’t let Steve see all of his face, as if that was revealing too much on its own.

“Tony.” Steve just said simply, getting a half-hearted glare back. 

“What –“

“Tony.” Firmer, softer, trying to win back at least a glance from him. He did, his lips twisting and convulsing in frustration, like they were struggling not to say what he wanted to say.

“I hate that. I hate you.” Steve attempted to stutter back a response but was cut off by Tony’s hands waving in front of him, the sharpness in his fingers on the top of his tongue. “I hate that you do this to me. I hate tha- that you can just…” 

He stopped himself, when he looked at Steve, the black makeup on his left eye smeared across his collarbone, slightly damp and shiny, like blood in the dark.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all I- “

He didn’t know what came over him. 

He planted his lips on the edge of Tony’s cheek where the paint had smudged into his skin. It was warm but the tear (or what he might defend as something caused by having a little speck in his eye) wet his lower lip, somehow it didn’t manage to snap him back into the reality of what he’d just done.

Tony didn’t react, he didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe until Steve pulled away, his breath hitching in his throat, staring at Steve with parted lips like he’d just committed a grievous offence, his skin beginning to match the same shade of pink on his lips. Steve was sure he probably looked about the same shade.

“Why did you do that? You- you…” His troubled tone trailed out. His ears felt like they were ringing, the rest of the street and the cars and the distant drunk shouting fading into a incessant noise until –

“You got – you got some mascara on your…” Then Tony’s thumb was on his lip, maybe he should have put chapstick on, _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Tony was looking up at him, and he was looking back, pressing his thumb against his lip as he swiped it across. His finger tugged on his lip as he pulled. If anyone saw them, they’d probably be as confused as Tony looked, perplexed squinting and scattered breaths.

Steve didn’t know why he did it, or why Tony was doing what he was now. He saw the paint on his skin and something inside of him overwhelming and hot decided he needed to clear it away, get rid of any pain he or anyone else might have caused him. _Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony._

In one quick movement, his thumb swiped across his lip, cupping the side of his chin, Tony standing on the tips of his toes and pressing his lips against his. Kissing him. 

_OH MY GOD, HE’S KISSING ME._

He was kissing him hard and confused, riled up and smooth all at once.

_Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony._

But he pulled away too quick, for any more a mess to made up between them. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Steve wasn’t sure of what to say. Or do. All of his senses probably stopped ‘sensing’ as his brain failed to communicate with the rest of his body, _What just happened?_

“Steve, I… I…”

“Tony-“

“-I don’t wanna go home.” 

Not exactly what he was expecting. Was Tony implying something?

“I don’t want you to go home either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! just a few notes:  
I have recently started uni in england, which is why updates are taking so long along with a lot of mental health problems and generally being overworked etc, I'm so sorry and I'll try and make a schedule and upload more frequently.  
If you're a fan of my other works just know I have NOT given up on either of them, i clowned myself thinking I could produce multiple works at once but I've learnt from my mistakes aha. I truly love writing all these stories and seeing the responses I get, they really mean the world to me and help motivate me to write more so I appreciate every comment or kudos I get  
Anyways! thank you all for reading and I hope you don't give up on my writing! 
> 
> songs referenced:  
we are not good people - bloc party  
bottom - mccafferty


	3. the woods

_”I don’t wanna go home.”_

_“I don’t want you to go home either.”_

Steve’s bed proved to be quite a squeeze. 

When he was with Sharon, she was so petite that when she stayed over it was like she was barely there in his arms anyway, and he’d gotten so used to her being there that eventually each night was the same, his fist curled in her hair or the palm of his hand held against the base of her neck. And then he’d gotten used to her not being there, and no one being there. 

But one over-grown, beefed up college boy sharing a rough twin-sized bed with an average college boy when neither of them are blacked out drunk proved to be a completely different challenge on its own. Awkwardness aside.

When he imagined Tony in his bed, there was no unbearable tension, rigid arms that didn’t dare to touch each other and Tony hogging the blanket without him being able to say anything because if he woke him up then he’d have to talk to him and maybe look at him and he couldn’t do that because if he did that then he’d want to kiss him again and he couldn’t do that. 

_”Steve… Just forget that that ever happened. I’m just being… I’m being ridiculous.”_

_“You’re not ridiculous, Tony. At least not right now.”_

_“Okay, jerk. Don’t kiss me again.”_

_“Fine by me.”_

Also, when he imagined Tony in his bed, Bucky wasn’t there in the other bed, drunkenly snoring into a lock of his own hair and soaking it in drool, and Tony wasn’t constantly checking his phone all night presumably for messages from Ty, the amount of sweat was somewhat accurate though. 

There were moments, in the night, where he had conveniently turned over at the same time as Tony, and they were facing one another. When Tony’s eyes were shut, Steve could look at him, too dark to see detail, but enough to look at him without guilt or shame, because Tony wasn’t looking back at him with those dangerous deep eyes that questioned every move he made and he wasn’t with his boyfriend. He could look at Tony’s naked eyelid and his lashes that were still thick, black and curled without any of the makeup. His pouting lips, with no anger or even a wicked smile which either would make him tense. He calmed him, made him feel safer in his own room than he did when he wasn’t there, almost otherworldly, like when Tony was asleep and slightly peaceful, he was finally at one with his own body, something he could not fathom to access when he was awake. 

Eventually Tony would restlessly roll over, and Steve would force himself to shut his eyes with the realisation that Tony was on a different plane of existence to himself, 

“Steven.” Tony had his back to him, while Steve had done his best to press his own back as close to the wall as possible, but there was still some inevitable touching. In his half-sleep state Tony’s quiet and croaky voice didn’t immediately register to him, among other things.

“Mmmmhh?” He grumbled, tiredly, morning not quite settling in.

“Your boner’s diggin’ into my back.” 

“Okay.” _Wait, what?_ “OH. UH. I’m sorry.” He shifted, uncomfortably, onto his back, so his shoulder was digging into Tony’s back but, that was better than, you know.

_The day has only just started, and this is already a nightmare. _

“You need to get laid, man.” Bucky chimed. _Delightfully_, Steve thought.

Steve groaned, rolling over so that his back was to them both. Morning wood, that was all it was. And what a yet again delightful morning it was turning out to be. 

The room was mostly dark, imitating the night he wishes it still was.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispered, or what was probably his rendition of a whisper because he was never any good at being quiet on purpose. The gentle tap on his shoulder triggered every nerve and all the blood in his body, Tony’s two fingers dancing on the blade of his back. He ignored him, which he felt bad for, but at least the cursed hard-on was going away, if only Tony would stop touching him. 

Steve glanced over his shoulder when Tony’s touch ceased, he was dangling over the side of the bed, rifling through the pockets of his shorts which had been strewn across the floor by the bedside table. He had borrowed a pair of Bucky’s sweats to sleep in, because Steve’s were too big when he tried them on (no, he didn’t watch Tony change, which evidently Tony found kind of odd, but he really didn’t want to risk anymore surprise boners). At first, when Steve changed, it was with hesitation, he swiftly realised there was no reason for that, until Tony stopped mid-sentence when Steve took his shirt off and fleeted to the bathroom. He wondered if he’d done something to make him uncomfortable. 

Whipping his head back around to the wall when Tony rolled back. Poking him now on the ridge of his spine. “Well, now we know it does work, right?” 

“Shut up, Tony.”

“You’re clearly a morning person.” Tony tugged on his shoulder, pulling on the neck of his shirt like an annoying, petulant, child. “Can I show a song?”

Almost punishingly, he thought, _’God, how can I say no to you?’_, in an annoyingly fond way.

Rolling over was more difficult than it should’ve been, trying to rotate onto his side without being about to stretch his arms or legs or he might touch Tony and he didn’t want to do _that_ again. Thankfully the _morning wood_ had turned into a sad, flaccid, guilty, floppy stain on his integrity. At least they were both guys. Somehow that thought was comforting and disturbing all at once. 

Tony held a small black earbud between his chipped-nail-polished fingers, looking at the space between Steve’s eyes eagerly and uncertainly, most of his hair had either tangled or draped across his forehead, that, combined with his bare face and dark lashes made him look years younger, softer. Their faces had become very close and amongst his anxiety he worried he had morning breath, because Tony didn’t. “Got it caught in my head. And it’s probably time you start listening to something from this century anyway.”

Steve almost laughed, settled for squinting incredulously instead, glancing down at the smile teasing the edge of his slightly chapped lips. “I have just opened my eyes and you are already making fun of me?” 

“I’m very dedicated to making fun of you.” 

“Well as long as you’re happy.” Maybe it was the way he said it, maybe it was because the room was deafeningly quiet and they both shared the same silence under the same blanket because the pause was rupturing, awkward and terrible, although Tony was smiling after he said it – he was looking at his lips again – that’s why. “Uh- ahem- So what’s this song you desperately need to show me at…” He looked at Tony’s phone, reading upside down, from that angle he also saw his upside-down lock-screen which was a picture of him and Rhodey. “-9:42am.” 

“Listen and see.” Flinging the earbud directly onto the tip of Steve’s nose and giving him ever so slight whiplash, his tiredness didn’t make it any less unsatisfying, scrunching up his face and trying not to look too seriously back at Tony.

“Thanks?” 

He put it in his left ear, as Tony placed the other in his own right ear. 

He had the song ready, on his phone, he’d had it ready and waited for Steve to say yes and put his ear bud in and face him and lay with him – it made him feel guilty, that he had never expected Tony to be so subtly thoughtful even though he witnessed it all the night before. But, before he pressed play, there was one last step. His finger held up to Steve’s ear. The edge of his middle finger rubbed against the lobe, as his index nestled the earphone into a more comfortable and secure angle. 

His hand stayed there for slightly too long, brown eyes following his face for a reaction, positive or negative – but he pulled away before he could get one, and Steve refused to let the delicacy of his fingers make him shiver. 

Tony used his phone as an escape, pressing play on the song almost immediately. 

It was upbeat, guitar, not exactly what he thought would be Tony’s style. A hopeful beat. Maybe Tony wanted Steve to hear the lyrics or just share a song together like a scene in a movie (or that was what _Steve_ wanted), but he wouldn’t know, because Tony dove underneath the covers, pulling the sheet over his head and ripping the wire out of both of their ears – he made some disturbed, disgusted noise before he did it.

“Um.” 

Steve managed to pull some of the sheet out of his grasp, and pull it over his own head as well, joining Tony in his strange and sudden little cave. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah.” Tony spoke quickly, not to the aid of the croak in his throat, an obvious sign of smoking and sleep deprivation. “Yeah, um. Just realised I probably look like a swamp goblin.”

“Well, I don’t know what a swamp goblin looks like. I doubt you look anything like a swamp goblin though. Why do you care, anyway? It’s only me.” He was scared to hear Tony’s answer as soon as he asked.

“Yeah, it’s only you, cause apparently you’re like a Greek god or something.”

“What?” Steve asked, confused. “Where did you get that idea? And also, what?” 

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb Hercules.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but apparently I’m dumb now?” 

Tony scoffed, but as more light began to pour into the room, and the inside of the sheets reflected red onto both of them in their secluded haven in the sheets, he could see that he was really smiling again. If only, he could be like that all the time, and they could stay under the sheets all the time and Tony wouldn’t go back to his boyfriend.

“Why you staring?” Tony said, bringing him back into reality. 

“I don’t know why you feel like you should hide. You don’t look like a swamp goblin, you look great.” 

“I look like the monster that you would go to the swamp to murder because you’re this amazing, handsome knight and everyone would be really happy and fall I love with you ‘cause you killed the goblin. I’m the goblin.”

Steve wondered if that was really how Tony saw him, and himself. Because if that was Tony’s analogy, then it would make Steve the hero of the story, the peak of human perfection protagonist who wards off Tony, the misunderstood, despicable monster that hides from the world in shame. But that wasn’t true at all, at least not in Steve’s eyes. Tony had his flaws, his past, but that didn’t take away from the fact that Steve had been hopelessly crushing over a boy in a committed relationship and hoped to God it would end so he might have the chance of being able to kiss him without it being awkward and feeling guilty. 

_Oh, Right, The Kiss, the dreaded, repressed, kiss._

Besides, out of everything that had happened to Steve and Tony retrospectively in recent months, it was hardly anything out of a fairy-tale. Even if he had spent many sleepless hours wondering if Tony was really real.

“Well I don’t like that, and if you’re a swamp monster, then I’m a big ugly Forest troll. And I’m way uglier.” 

“Haaaaaaa. Dumbass. Alright, so, I think we should just stay under here and never show our faces to the world ever again. Sound good?” 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

They never did listen to the rest of that song. And Steve never learned what it was called.

In those following weeks, Steve began to fully realise the nature of his first kiss with Tony. 

It hadn’t turned out like anything he’d wanted but then again nothing had. It wasn’t some grand and glorious display of affections and admission of feelings and fireworks going off in the background – No. Admittedly, it had been a heat of the moment, messy, _”maybe I had one too many beers”_, hormonal puke of a kiss. 

When Tony had done his best to so casually try and brush it to the side, he realised it must’ve been because he assumed Steve didn’t have feelings for him.

So, as any genius, love-sick fool, hopeless romantic (kinda) would – he set out to try and tell Tony he liked him without actually telling him he liked him. It was an amazing idea by any standards.

He tried to write. Firstly, a poem, because poems are the height of romance, right? On paper, too, so it would seem more genuine and thoughtful (plus he didn’t want to run the risk of Bucky opening a stupid love poem on his laptop). Turns out he was terrible, awful, in fact. Then he tried to write him a song, it made sense, Tony was into music, it was perfect. And as it turned out, writing song lyrics is much easier than poetry, you could use the same words over and over again, you didn’t have to worry about every minute period mark or paragraph.

Ease aside, it didn’t make the actual words on the paper better. 

Yes, drawing and painting would be the solution. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? He drew Tony all the time, before he even knew him. Seeing something, _someone_ so captivating and energizing, pulling in everyone in the room and the room around him was a sight he wasn’t used to – nothing before that had made him want to just pull out whatever paper he could find and try and savour every little detail he could manage to fit on the page. 

But Tony didn’t see it that way, to him, Steve was just some guy who liked to draw and occasionally drew pictures of him and his friends in a completely non-obsessive, non-crushing way. 

The last resort was making Tony a playlist. It was very 80s-_John Hughes_-of an idea, which he imagined Tony would appreciate given his style and love for David Bowie. Tony probably wouldn’t listen to it anyway. 

He would buy him something special, but he didn’t have any money.

With each day it began to seem like he was wasting his time. It was obvious Tony made certain that he and Steve were never alone together. He acted like himself, as usual, like nothing had changed – arranged to go out for coffee with him, then last minute Rhodey or Natasha would suddenly decide that they were coming too. All of it left him wondering whether it was just him, that him and Tony weren’t really friends at all and he felt awkward around him. Maybe Tony felt guilty, or embarrassed even, that he hadn’t broken up with Ty who subjected everyone to subtle-not-subtle pictures of Tony’s arms or legs draped over him on Instagram. 

All of their friends had, ultimately, unfollowed Ty after the incident. But Steve (using the self-told excuse that he _wasn’t that petty_) had become so obsessed or maybe even bewitched that he took any opportunity to see Tony, even if it was via That bastard.

Still, the times he was with Tony, when the third party would go to the bathroom or get a drink, a new and unsteady friction had clouded the air, as if the presence of another person was just what both of them needed to get in the way of it. 

An invite to a small party was a surprise after all of that.

“Ty isn’t invited.” 

In the library, Steve and Bucky were attempting to study. It was the area on the second floor where moderate noise and chatter was acceptable as per study groups and people who just wanted to hook up pretending like they actually want to sit and read through a calculus textbook together. The second floor of the library was also the only floor with bright red walls that made it impossible for him to concentrate, as if that wasn’t hard enough already. 

_Tony kissed me, or did I kiss him? His lips were soft, but he doesn’t want that. Or does he? He kissed me. Tony. Kissed. Me._

“Mmh? Sorry, what?” Steve lifted his head up from his notebook which had become an impromptu sketchpad for which he was doodling… something with his ball point pen. Historians and Psychologists might look back at it and recognise it as his gradual slip into insanity caused by an angsty college senior. 

“Ty isn’t invited.” Bucky repeated as he flipped a page of the book he was reading, something big and wordy for his Philosophy class that Steve had minimal interest in. 

“Well I wasn’t expecting him to be joining us anyway?” Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Wha- “ His friend looked up from the book, pinning it the table with his fist so it wouldn’t curl over. “No, idiot, to the cook-out. Nat made sure it was a strict no-boyfriends, no-girlfriends event which, I guess explicitly bans he-who-shall-not-be-named. And until I officially ask Natasha to be my girlfriend, I am allowed to come.” 

_Well that’s good news_. Steve thought. Sitting upright in his chair to at least try and pretend he was more engaged. 

“So you’re gonna ask her out, huh?” 

“Yeah, I just want the timing to be right. I don’t want to screw it up with her, I’ve never been in a serious relationship and neither has she, just don’t wanna scare her away.” The anxiety from the sudden conversation prompted Bucky to tie his hair back into a bun, as if he was getting ready for something strenuous. Steve just sat, and listened. 

“And I keep thinking that she’s way out of my league, she’s so cool.”

“Pretty sure that was a given.” He said with a friendly smile. 

“Yeah well you dated Sharon and she was way hotter than you! But… she makes me feel cool. The other night we went on a date and just drank beer and threw knives at trees.” He peered past Steve at the bright red wall in thought, crossing his arms over his chest. Trying to remember the last time Bucky was this worked up over a girl… He couldn’t, it was unusual. He almost wished he had it so simple.

“Hopefully you didn’t accidentally knife someone having a late-night stroll. You know, Buck, you’ve never actually told me why else you like her. I mean, you throw knives and drink beer when you’re alone anyway.” 

“But I don’t want to be alone anymore. Not since I met her.” 

_No._ Steve thought. _Me neither._

At least Bucky was off to a good start, at least Natasha was single. 

-

The last remnants of Summer had finally faded into new Autumn. Steve still didn’t know why Natasha and Clint decided to go camping just as the air got colder and the wind… windier. His invitation came in the form of a text from Tony to Bucky, which was unsettling and depressing. 

The tents were arranged in a circle within a rather dry yet tall forest just outside of town, a few bumps in the dirt and under grown trees putting more distance between a few of them, everybody’s bags and crates of beers rested against an oak east of the make shift camp they’d forged. 

Natasha had her own tent, as did Clint. Thor and Bruce decided to share although Bruce seemed as though he’d rather have his own space. Tony and Rhodey shared a fairly big tent, and of course, Bucky and Steve were forced to squeeze into a tiny, fairy-sized tent they borrowed from someone in their dorm. Thankfully they wouldn’t spend most of their time inside, as they all sat around a very measly fire arguing about the best way to make a fire, while Clint played indie-folk music from his wireless speaker, but as people began to get more drunk and more high it somehow transitioned into some intense screamy-techno noise that he found hard to see any appeal. 

Tony didn’t talk to Steve much as they were all settling in, but people got drunk very quickly and it was easy to see that Tony quickly drew into himself, clearly too cold in just a t-shirt and denim jacket, cooking a sausage over the fire for Bruce to try and sober him up. So after he managed to escape Bucky venting about Natasha yet again. (He’d just finished watching Bucky show him knife wounds in a tree that him and Natasha had made last time they were there). He took his place by him on a much too small log by the fire, Tony smiled up at him as he sat, one that was usually followed by a joke or sarcastic comment, but he just smiled, and waved the stick around which stabbed the sausage. 

“This fire is terrible. If it weren’t for Clint whizzing that flashlight around like we’re at a very low-budget rave we wouldn’t be able to see shit.” Tony sighed as a matter of fact, pulling his jacket tighter around him with his spare hand. “At least he hasn’t started singing yet. That’s a bonus.”

Steve let out a gentle laugh, the fire seemed fine, especially as it flickered yellow and orange onto Tony’s cheeks, crackling against his skin so naturally like there was already a fire inside him. 

“I could help you make it bigger if you want?” Steve offered, gently, for some reason provoking a small laugh from Tony. “What? Really, I’m quite handy.” 

Tony laughed harder, pointing his grin at Steve as he did. “I don’t think you actually realise how filthy you sound.” 

“What? That’s not me, you just have a filthy mind.” Steve hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Hmmm. Maybe.” 

Okay now he was blushing. 

“H- alright, let me try and make this… Sad, little fire, better.” Steve scooted closer to Tony, who watched him, carefully, the light dazzling around his dark eyes giving him away.

“I know how to do it myself.” Tony grumbled, quietly, but with adamance in his voice, but flinched, as Thor rumbled into him, slapping a hard hand onto his shoulder, hulking tall over Tony with a warm smile that detracted from his otherwise intimidating appearance. 

“Anthony, is it done yet?” 

“I told you big bear that I don’t like to be called that and…” Lifting the stick out of the fire, the sausage now resembled a long piece of charcoal rather than food. Tony blinked at it as if he couldn’t comprehend how he’d done it, and then at Steve, softly, although it was his fault for taking his attention away. “Yeah I think it’s done alright.” 

“Fantastic –“ Thor grabbed the stick with so much force he caused Tony to lose his balance on his log. “I’ll bring this to him, thank you.” He trudged off in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” Tony twisted around and shouted. “Wait for it to cool down first!” 

“Kids these days.” Steve tried to joke, enjoying Tony in the warmth, enjoying how quietly thoughtful he was. 

“They grow up so fast.” Tony said through an over-exaggerated sigh, watching Thor give the sausage on a stick to Bruce who was slumped up against his tent, causing it to fold into itself. He began throwing small twigs into the flame as he turned around, a free hand placed between the space separating Steve and himself. 

Natasha and Bucky were talking, and laughing, waving sparklers around and pretending to point them at one another, it caught Tony’s eye. 

“I think he’d be good for her.” Tony was different, that night, gentler, quieter. Tony didn’t often keep his thoughts to himself, often stating them as fact, undoubtable – but he seemed to talk as though he didn’t want Steve or anyone to believe what he was saying, in a way that he could be talking to himself, not needing to impress anyone. Steve found himself looking at him rather than the couple in question.

“He’d probably like to know you think that… I think she’d be good for him too.” From his perspective, Nat and Bucky’s bodies were just above the flames, as if they were burning from the bottom up. If they were to look at him and Tony, they would probably see the same thing, or maybe they’d be encased in it.

“She always keeps everyone at a… blades distance, you know? But I see her really opening up to him. Maybe they can help each other, she’s… she’s had it rough..” 

_Haven’t you?_

“Ty isn’t good for me. Is he?” 

Tony looked as though saying it took every ounce of energy left in his body and every breath in his lungs. Admitting it, hard and almost triumphantly, too much so, that he couldn’t even bare to look at Steve.

“Do you actually want me to answer that?” 

“No.” Firmly, and yet his eyes locked to the ground. Doubting the confidence that he was gaining. “But it’s not a real relationship. Not really. It never was. I’ve known him since we were kids, nothing has changed at all. We just grew up.”

_”AH IT’S HOT!!!_

“I TOLD YOU TO LET IT COOL DOWN!” Tony yelled behind him, Rhodey and Clint were laughing at a very poor and intoxicated Bruce.

“Tony. Do you want to know what I think?” 

“If I say yes, do I have to act on it?”

“Of course not.” 

“Then go ahead.” Taking a deep breath, trying to relax for him. 

“I think you should just do what makes you happy. If Ty makes you happy… then fine. But I don’t think he does. Oh – I’m sorry, it’s not my place.” 

“No. It’s not. But it’s okay. I like that you’re honest with me. Not many people are.” 

“I would never lie to you...” _Never, never, never -_

Tony paused, blinking at Steve, as much as the fire crackled beside them. Laughter and music once again all becoming white noise, irrelevant extras in them. 

“Then tell me something Rogers. What makes you happy?” 

The simplest of questions that up until recently had no answer. And it was asked as if he wanted advice, an example, because he’d never truly known it before. Tony sat, waiting for an answer that Steve couldn’t give, and so he just sat there, beside him, looking at his plump red lips and pink cheeks, trying to stop his mouth from saying: _’You. Only you.’_

“What’s cookin’?” Rhodey interrupted, stood between them both, hands in his pockets. Steve let out such a big sigh of relief that Tony have him a suspicious look. 

“Nothing. At the moment, why, you want me to cook you up something hubby?” And as diligently as ever, he returned to his casual façade. There was, however, a very specific and observable release of tension in Tony’s demeanour whenever Rhodey was around, even if they were bickering. 

“Nah, I’m okay. Full up on burgers from earlier. And uhh, I’m sure Bruce wanted to have a word with you about that sausage you gave him.”

“Really? Drunk Bruce is a whole new level of whiney. I liked it better when he didn’t speak.” 

Tony gave little regard to Steve as he got up and walked away, Rhodey swiftly took his place beside Steve. Steve wished he drank more, so it wouldn’t be awkward, they’d never spoken properly before, he got the impression that Tony’s best friend wasn’t really leaning into him as much as he’d want. Then again, he should be at least thankful, he had more friends now than he had for the entirety of high school. 

“What’s up man?” 

“Me and Tony were just talking about uh… Him and Ty.” He cleared his throat, nervously. He could hear Tony shouting now, his voice was always serious when he did but he was almost always joking.

“Ah. God knows I’ve had many of those conversations. But its mostly me, yaknow, yelling about what a complete an utter psycho that guy is.” 

“What do you mean? He seems very stable and well-hinged.” Steve said dryly. 

“Ha-ha. Well I just hope he realises it soon. Or he already has, and he’s just so damn stubborn he won’t give in.” 

For some reason, that wouldn’t surprise him. 

“You know, when I asked Tony why he was with him, he told me about how he bumped into him on a bad night and that they had this history but… I still don’t understand.”

“Well, first of all, trying to understand Tony in general will get you nowhere. And, over the past year or so, seeing the way they treat each other, I have come up with a theory of my own.” 

Steve sat up, genuinely interested.

“See,” Rhodey began. “Tony and his mom have told me about this rivalry him and Ty always had growing up. Everything was a competition, but Tony was always better, and I’m not just saying that ‘cause he’s my friend, trust me he could do with a little knock to his ego every now and again. Ty is definitely obsessed with him and not in a cute, honeymoon period kinda way, in a crazy nutjob kinda way. I think he does the things he does because he wants Tony to like… fight back? Or, he wants Tony to feel so shitty about himself that he won’t.”

“You really think he consciously does that? That’s… that’s twisted.” Yet not totally surprising. 

“Honestly, we all just put up with him. I don’t wanna shut Tony out, annoying as he is sometimes.” As much as Rhodey attempted to distance himself, Steve could hear the love in his voice. Maybe it was due to the fact that he didn’t know Steve very well, that he didn’t truly reveal himself, even when he turned around to look for, or out for, his friend, who was now kicking around leaves and branches around him. 

Rhodey resumed to the fire, but something persuaded Steve to look back too, after him, something tickling, no, scratching at the back of his neck, the feeling deafened anything James was saying to him now.

Tony was looking at him. He was. As he turned, back towards the sunken woods and Tony’s stout, fragile figure. Of course, Tony didn’t allow them to make eye contact for long, folding his arms and walking into the woods without saying a word to his friends.

“I- I’m sorry. I have to… Go to the bathroom.” He excused himself, bluntly, rushing to his feet. 

He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know what encapsulated him to follow Tony into the woods. A part of him knew that Tony wanted him to and didn’t want him to at once. Aside that, he couldn’t stop himself, crossing through the camp, and the noise, into the silent darkness where Tony disappeared.

What would he find, though, if he carried on following in Tony’s path, his already distant shadow flickering through the trees? Another broken down and destructive boy like the night he chased Tony down the street? Another night fuelled with rage at Tony’s awful excuse for a partner, sure.

This time was different. Happiness echoed in the back of his brain, a new premise, a promise. How – he didn’t know, maybe he would find it in the woods. 

He found him in a reclusive, open topped den. A pool lined with rocks and reeves, glimmering in the moonlight cascading through the space above, trees opening up to give them even a little bit of light. Tony was stood, looking into a small pond that came off from the larger pool, dammed by rocks and filled with moss and some odd shaped lily pads. 

“I had a feeling you’d follow me. You have a tendency of doing that.” He dipped his head up with a smile, warm and inviting, and familiar with each tentative step Steve made towards him, leaves crackling beneath his shoes like the distant fire. “Just as well, it’s probably more fun to look at this with someone else.” 

“Look at what?” Taking his place beside him, on the edge of the pond and trying to follow his eyes.

“Tadpoles. Lots of them.” Squatting by the water, wrapping an arm around his knees and pointing to faint black trickles in the water. He’d never have seen them if not for Tony. “I had to get away from everyone… Tadpoles do that too, sometimes they even eat each other.” 

“You’re not a tadpole, thankfully. But, um, do you wanna talk about it?” 

For some inexplicable reason, perhaps something psychological, it was warmer with him by the water than it was before. If it had been cold, he didn’t notice, the entire forest could be ablaze and he wouldn’t notice, fixated on Tony uncurling from the floor and sprouting up to meet his eyes, looking up, of course. 

“No. Why would I want to do that?” The way Tony looked into him with his intrusively interrogating dark brown eyes made him hot in his sweater, the way his shoulder grazed into his chest as he walked past him not helping. “Do you ever think about what people would say about you if you went missing?”

“…Were you hoping to go missing tonight? Because… Well, I gotta tell ya, I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

Tony chuckled, and began tip toeing across smooth rocks, Steve, walking beside him on the ground, they were almost the same height that way. “Oh, you are melodramatic sometimes. No, of course not. Just… Being a tadpole. But really, I’m interested.”

“Um… Well it’s a very morbid thing to think about. What would’ve happened to me?”

“Hmmm…” Tony stopped, his shoes making a thump as he monumented himself on the stone. “Maybe we ran away together with no trace, to somewhere where nobody knew who we were and obviously the mystery of our disappearance would be talked about on the news and on Youtube videos for the rest of time because we are just _that_ cool.”

“We?” Halting in his tracks, leaves of orange and brown swept around his ankles as he turned with the penultimate question. It was the first time he’d seen Tony hesitate, the boy with the quickest wit of them all. 

“You… You wouldn’t be able to make out there on your own, that’s all.” Crossing his arms in response to Steve shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve laughed, briskly like the air cooling his cheeks and twirling into the trees. “And you would? Rich boy? I only followed you out here ‘cause I was scared you’d end up mauled by a bear or shot by a poacher or something. Maybe you’d get stabbed by Natasha and Bucky playing with knives.”

“What makes you think I can’t handle myself ‘tough guy’?” Tilting his head to the side, an eyebrow pointing the same way. 

_He really is cute when he tries to act tough._

“You wanna prove it-“

“Yeah.”

“-then get in the water.” 

Steve smiled nonchalantly, enjoying Tony’s face twist from indignation to confusion to a challenging glare.

“It’s freezing. But. That doesn’t matter…” He glanced behind him, and then at himself. “How about I just fight you instead?”

“Wouldn’t be a fair game.” Steve teased so he could purposefully watch the heat in Tony’s cheeks. 

“Oh! You wanna make it fair? Okay. Then you get in the water.”

“You first.”

“No, you. Since you want to be all ‘fair’.”

“Alright, if you’re too scared then I’ll-“

“Scared?! I am not scared. Fine, no. I see what you’re doing, I’ll show you…” Rhodey said that Tony and Ty used to compete a lot, he was beginning to learn it probably wasn’t just Ty who held all the competitive rights. “_pff… scared._” Tony mumbled under his breath and began kicking his shoes off, rubbing the heel against the edge of the stone to slide them off his feet and kick them to the dirt. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked with a laugh in his voice. 

“Um, these are my only clothes dumbass. What, did you think, I was gonna go back on a challenge? You’re talking to the wrong man.” 

He began shrugging off his jacket, throwing it on the ground by his shoes. Steve began to tense as his small calloused fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“Tony, you don’t actually have t-“

“Ah! No backsies, mister, why, you scared?” He mimicked childishly and ripped his shirt off over his head, dropping it the ground with ease. Steve tried not to look, although his already hard pink nipples were eye level. _Impossible. Fucking evil._ he thought.

No amount of Steve’s _’I can’t believe you’re actually doing this’_ and _’You’re gonna get hypothermia’_s stopped Tony from going for his jeans. Sliding them down his legs between his fingers, and Steve watched the fabric cascade past the goosebumps on his skin, how he clumsily kicked them past his feet and pulled his socks off with them. No turning back now.

“Okay.” Tony blew out a breath, clearly trying not to make it obvious that he was cold, wrapping his arms around himself, shivering in his boxers. They were navy blue, and not very tight, surprisingly normal. “As much as I could really use your jacket as a blanket again, it’s your turn.” 

Tony smirked at his hesitation. Staring into him until he gave in all the while Steve was trying his hardest not to grab Tony and kiss him again. The night in Steve’s dorm, Tony was… insecure. If Steve didn’t know everything about what that was like he would wonder why, because looking at him, his toned chest, the lightening scar that ran down the middle of it, even the way his stomach ever so slightly pudged… He was perfect.

“Fine.” He finally managed. “A little cold never bothered me.”

He started with his sweater, and then realised he should have probably started with his shoes like Tony did, removing his socks at the same time because he did not have the advantage of a smooth floor like Tony. Maybe a little too eagerly as Tony was watching did he remove his under t-shirt. There wasn’t really a sexy or alluring way to take off jeans, Tony somehow managed it, but he was Tony, Tony, who was looking back and forth rapidly at Steve shrugging the grey jeans off. Admittedly, he felt much less exposed as Tony was too, and glad he wore his good white Calvin’s that Sharon had bought him. 

“Happy now?” Steve sighed, feeling the breeze on his pecs, and his legs.

“…Very much so.” Tony mumbled, looking away. Steve stood up on the rock beside him, the silver stone feeling like ice under his feet, maybe Tony felt the same thing, as he gasped when Steve stood next to him. 

“So…” 

The nakedness was not as comforting as he originally thought.

“Hop in.” Steve said bluntly.

“I know, I am. Just one last-“ 

A thump on the ridge of his back turned into a wave of freezing water slapping him in the face, and engulfing him in an instant. 

He managed to splash his way above water with minimal panic, not taking away from the complete _betrayal_ he felt, enough to distract him from how the water was almost like ice.

“T- OH MY GOD. I can’t believe you! It’s f-fucking freezing in here!” Steve yelled, tall enough to practically stand up in the pond, running his wet hands over himself to stay warm, Tony was laughing, devilishly – squatting on the rock in an attempt to show off to his faux rival once again. 

“Oh. Sorry. I guess I should’ve told you, I don’t play fair.” Smiling the way he always did. “But, I have to tell you that- WA!!!”

Steve had, as gently and non-brutishly as he possibly could, grabbed Tony by the wrist and yanked him into the water. 

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK MOTHERFUCKING BITCH ON A TRISCUIT!!!!”

-Was Tony’s response as he rose to the top. Splashing and thrashing around exaggeratively although he had no trouble swimming. 

“It’s not nice is it?” Steve boasted, earning him a purposeful splash in the face. 

“You- you are an a- an asshole!” Treading the water to stay warm beneath it, scorning a sour face up at him. 

“Listen, you betrayed me Tony Stark. I can’t let you get away with that.” 

“Get away with this motherfucker!” Tony leapt up, jumping as much as he could, wrapping his gangly arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him down into the water with him. 

And before they’d realised it, they’d spent almost an hour fooling around in the secluded pond. Shouting and cursing as they splashed one an another, wrestling like boys with Tony jumping on Steve’s broad back and Steve picking Tony up in his hulking arms just to drop him into the freezing depths. 

They were laughing too, together, without even realising it. 

The night had drawn in darker by the time they got out and had forged a fire more impressive than the original using only sticks and Tony’s lighter. They sat around it next to one another on top of their coats. Tony took Steve’s sweater (without asking), cross legged by the warmth with only that and his soaking boxers on. Steve could deal with the chill from sitting in only his t shirt and briefs if it meant he could see Tony swallowed up in his large blue sweater, the sleeves pulled comfortably above his thin wrists. 

Mostly quiet in comfortable silence, watching more and more critters hop around the moonlit pond, buzzing around their heads as the flame not burned on.

“Usually…” Tony started. “I would be sat here thinking: _’God, a bottle of JD would be perfect right now’_. But I’m not. It’s… Refreshing, to say the least.” His words trailed off, flowing away and trickling down, he edged closer to Steve, perhaps for warmth, maybe for comfort. 

Steve was already warm inside. “What’s different? I’m asking because, if I know, then I can keep maintaining whatever it is that makes you feel that way, and… Yeah.”

“That’s not your job, Mr Rogers, but I appreciate the sentiment. And, it is very egotistical to assume that _you_ are the cause of this sudden change in temperament.” Throwing his cigarette into the fire, holding his palms up to the yellow flame after to replace the lack of heat at his fingers. 

_Yes. It is._ He looked down at Tony, his cold nose and red hair. Images of him smiling and free playing back in a loop, over and over again. _Fuck it._

“Am I wrong?” 

The eye contact was invasive. 

“I… I can’t answer that without digging myself into a very deep, dark hole that I’m afraid I won’t be able to get out of.” 

“I thought you didn’t get scared?” Steve tried him with a gentle smile. 

“Fuck you.” Tony smiled back, a distant and sad smile, his gaze trailing off beside him into the pit. 

“First off, that’s unnecessary. And… Why don’t we try that game o’ yours again?” Tony seemed to perk up at that, ever so slightly.

“The truth game? Why, do you think I’m hiding something?” Their hands flattened next to one another’s over their own make-shift blankets on the floor, sprawled out and never touching. Steve glanced down to see Tony’s fingers wiggle at the suggestion.

“I always think you’re hiding something Stark. But I’m thinking rather that, like you said last time, nothing can be held against you. And… The woods can be the rooftop. What is said on the rooftop, stays on the rooftop.” Tony’s finger circled on the ground as he thought, his one revealing trait as he tried his best not to show Steve any kind of reception. 

“You make a convincing argument. But who says I _want_ to tell you this time? Some things are better left unsaid as they say…” As though Tony was speaking to himself rather than Steve, rationalising every factor and piece of information out loud as if there was too much going on in his head for it all to fit. “Okay. Fine. I think… That may be an alright idea.” 

“You never wanna admit that I might have a good idea every so often, do you?” Steve said fondly as he shifted his whole body to face Tony. 

Tony mimicked him, laughing softly as he shuffled on his bottom closer to Steve. “Well, that is my job. Most of the time.” 

A breath of laughter before Steve debated whether to move in first. Initial tenseness with each inch they became closer. _Okay. You can do this. You kissed him before, surely, this is nothing._

Tony made the first move, leaning forward far enough so he could rest his head on Steve’s and ripping the proverbial Band-Aid off.

“Alright. Hooo, okay.” Tony swallowed so hard that Steve could hear, the embers in the fire quietened, the wildlife and the wind silenced just for them as they sat closely with their heads tight together. Steve listened, thinking that he didn’t appreciate how lovely Tony looked up close the last time they did this. 

“I’m listening.” He reaffirmed him, whispering, like he didn’t want to stir him.

“Well. It seems that… It doesn’t seem like, actually, it is, that – um. Ever since you… kissed me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, no matter what I do. It’s kinda becoming a real problem for me. But it was the first time I’ve really felt… _anything_ for a long time and I just want you to- to kiss me again. Hit me. Anything.” 

Silent. Steve was silent. Tony had told him practically everything he’d ever wanted to hear and he couldn’t utter a word, just staring at him wide eyed listening to the rapid beating of his and his own heart. 

“Gah.” Tony groaned, pulling away, contorting his entire body away from Steve. “God, I’m sorry. _Stupid_, should’ve never said anyth-“ 

Whatever came over him in that moment, he’ll never know. Because his hand was on Tony’s cheek, pulling his face back towards his, and he was kissing him like it was the only thing that could keep him alive. 

This time, they didn’t stop, if they tried it would have been impossible. Tony’s hands clasped around Steve’s neck, his back, desperately until they reached his face like the final confirmation that _Okay, this is happening._ Steve, in synchronised response, gathered Tony up into his lap so that he could never get away from him, protective hands on his hips that slid up and down his back, drawing him in nearer as their mouths grew hotter, wetter, closer. 

Everything was new, every feeling, touch, whimper, as he lowered Tony down onto his back, their lips still attached as though desperate for life he noticed that it was the most comfortable he’d ever felt. 

Each touch was frenzied, Tony on his back although vulnerable grabbing at the bottom of Steve’s shirt, working it up his body until Steve helped him, pulling it up over his head. 

In the beginning, this was never possible. In the beginning, Tony was unreachable, godly, and yet he was here, allowing Steve to pull the sweater over his head and kiss every inch of his neck, to his chest. Kisses littering the trail down the path of Tony’s scar, past it all the way to his stomach. 

Stripping and bearing themselves down to nothing, into the ground, the warmth of their bodies together standing up against the cold, hot moans burning up into the night sky. Steve told him, he’d never been with another guy before, Tony said it was okay. And it was, it was more than okay. 

They fell asleep there, Tony’s head on his chest, messy hair entwined with a coupe stray leaves and dirt, the two of them barely clothed under a make-shift blanket made out of shirts, sweaters and pants. It was the most contenting, and destructive thing he’d ever done. 

But he woke up alone.

Stirred by a muffled shuffling sound, he woke up to a bright sun beaming down on him, the fire turned to ash and rubble, a charred stain in the dirt where it once burned on. The night before didn’t seem real, like it must have been a dream. Sleeping with Tony, the things they did… It was disturbingly fresh in his memory and yet Tony wasn’t there beside him like he was when he fell asleep. 

No, he was up, clothed, a couple feet away from him by the lake that glittered in the daylight. All it took was him to hear Steve sit up, for him to start walking away. 

Steve gathered the rest of his clothes as quickly as he could, having to pull his sweater on as he followed Tony, and instant stick in the gut of worry with each step. _Is this really real? Is all of this happening?_

“Tony, Tony, where are you going?” 

“Home.” He replied sharply, like the word had been playing over and over again on his breath. “I’m going home, I’m going to see my boyfriend.” The pace continued; Steve was only faced with the back of his head.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Tony snapped, harsh and fast almost tripping Steve up on his heels. He spun around, to face him, interrogate him even. His eyes were red and full of sorrow and regret, sending a sick feeling to the wound that was already in Steve’s stomach. “We shouldn’t have done that. We should have never crossed that line, not you and me.” The air between each word grew with intensity, each breath shakier in his throat. “That’s not me, I can’t be that person.”

“What… What person?” He asked wearily. It felt as though every tree was listening to them.

“A cheater! A liar! I feel sick…”

“What and he- he hasn’t done the same to you? Over and over again? You’d rather be the person who just shuts up and takes it?” 

“So, what does that make you then? Payback? Is that really what you want? To be a ploy in me and Ty’s fucked up little game?” 

“No, Tony.” Steve answered firmly. “But that wasn’t that, was it? I know it wasn’t, so… It was something… something else. Right?” 

Tony paused for a moment that felt like a lifetime. Glossy eyes staring widely at Steve, so much doubt, so much pain. 

“No.” 

Tony uttered like a drop, slamming down onto Steve’s chest. 

“It was just sex.” He shrugged unconvincingly, his voice shattering into charred pieces as he spoke. 

Steve nodded. Swallowing as much of his feelings as he could, so much that it burned his throat. 

“You just wanted to feel something, right?” 

Tony paused again, his eyes darting around the floor looking for an answer.

He couldn’t find one.

“See you around.” 

Tony’s abject bluntness tore Steve open, ripping him open. The pain felt more real when Tony turned away, and carried on walking in the opposite direction. 

He wouldn’t follow him.

Not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! Finally decided this work will be 5 chapters, 4th will be the final concluding chapter and the 5th an epilogue of sorts. Thank you for reading, leaving comments/kudos etc again really means a lot to me and encourages me to keep writing! hope u all enjoy <3


	4. i hope i don't fuck this up

“Are you gonna come?” 

“No.” 

“Why, why not? Don’t be lame.” 

“I’m bored of parties, go without me. I’m too busy anyway.” 

“Yeah, you sure look real busy.” Bucky said in an exaggerated tone as he looked over his shoulder at the mostly empty bar. He’d come to visit Steve at work one Tuesday, and it turned out to be a quiet place to study where it was acceptable to drink while you were doing it. Although he wasn’t really supposed to talk to customers for hours on end, on nights like this it was alright, there was only really regulars that he was beginning to know, and they sat at booths rather than the bar because they’d rather be alone. One was an older Dutch woman who was always dressed in cardigans and reading funny pages in the newspaper (he slapped himself on the wrist for thinking they weren’t even a thing anymore). 

And, no. He hadn’t seen Tony since the night in the woods. He’d been actively and successfully avoiding it, no gigs, changing his shifts so that he wouldn’t be working when the band was playing at Sharky’s. No parties, although nobody had really hosted anything since, and if they did, he always magicked up some excuse. (_’Sorry, I have an assignment due.’ ‘Sorry, I have practice really late that night.’ ‘Sorry, you effectively ripped my heart out, spat on it and then used it as a hockey puck’_)

“What do you want me to say? You know I never have fun at those things anyway. I’ve really got stuff to do tonight, I can’t.” Smearing a damp cloth across the bar for the 500th time that night, void of anything else to do, he lifted up Bucky’s textbook as he did without his saying so, earning an irritated eyebrow-frown.

“Please. Everyone keeps asking where you are. Even Tony, he always asks why you can’t come and I feel bad using your dumb excuses.” Sliding the book back to its original spot with a tad of passive-aggressiveness. 

“Tony?” 

Steve paused almost immediately, his hand on the bar ended up slipping, his pinky knocking over Bucky’s empty beer bottle – quickly grabbing it before it toppled onto the ground. Unsurprisingly, his friend gave him a suspicious look. 

“Tony asked?” Coughing into his fist, which didn’t help to make him seem any less awkward. 

“Yeah? What about it? You have been acting real weird lately… Seriously. Is everything okay?” 

Maybe if Steve had been asked that question more often, he’d be able to think of an appropriate answer. Or at least a good lie that would make him go away.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He sighed, screwing the cloth up into a loose ball and dropping it by the sink beneath the bar. “I’ve been normal. Just because I don’t wanna go to some stupid party and drink cheap beer with people who don’t really like me doesn’t mean anything is wrong.” 

Steve’s head shot up when Bucky scoffed in response. “Steve, I live with you. I have to see your sad face and your depressing little drawings every single day. _And_ you think I don’t notice how little you shower lately. Someone needed to tell you. I’m your friend.” 

He thought about it. Telling Bucky what was really wrong – the initial intense questioning of his sexuality and self to the awful and detrimental crush to sleeping with and subsequently being dumped by the crush he’d spent months yearning after to seemingly no end. Even after Tony’s rejection it was still impossible to get him out his head, possibly worse so. Because they’d done it, and it was great (at least he’d thought so) – after they just lied together and talked until they fell asleep, but over night it was like someone flipped a switch inside Tony. 

He had to accept it. No matter how horrible it felt.

But it might be good to get it out, to someone he cared about, who cared about him. Someone he trusted. 

“Okay. If I tell you… Will you promise not to be weird about it?”

Bucky nodded, closing his book, and dropping his pen. “Yeah. I know when to be weird and when… not to be weird.” 

They waited until Steve’s co-worker Jared could cover his shift so he could take a break – Sitting outside the alley behind the bar so Bucky could smoke (something he’d taken up for some reason he didn’t want to go into), and Steve wouldn’t have to worry about strangers walking by listening to him attempt to come out to his best friend. Buck was crouched by a tin trash can, shielding himself from the cold, Steve pacing back and forth slowly and crushing long burned out cigarette butts beneath his feet on the concrete. Too worried to even think about the cold. 

“Since I didn’t register that it was apparently 45 degrees out here, you wanna talk about it now or are you going to keep moping?” He didn’t go for another cigarette, still getting used to using them. 

“Well yeah I’m just… thinking.” 

“Well can you think about it inside by the radiator?” 

Steve passed him a troubled and discontented look, silently asking for patience. Bucky just nodded, instead of apologising, not that he needed to. 

“Okay. Here’s the thing. Lately I’ve realised some things about myself, and it’s driving me insane.” Pausing in case his friend wanted to interject, or ask a question – he didn’t, just looked up at him with passive eyes, not too eager to listen but not bored or annoyed. It was comforting. “I… I like guys? Or _a_ guy…” 

Bucky blinked at him. _Why isn’t he reacting? Oh my God, I’ve weirded him out. He’s never going to speak to me again, he’s going to move out and-_

“If that makes you feel weird or anything then I get it.” 

Then Bucky shot to his feet so fast that his long hair almost whipped Steve in the eye. 

“Why would you even THINK that?” He asked incredulously, firming a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. “Dude, it’s fine. It would never not be fine with me. You’re my best friend. I just wish you’d told me sooner, instead of being all stubborn and secretive like you do sometimes.” 

A syringe of relief breathed into Steve’s chest. From finally having said it out loud, and the support of his friend. He always knew Bucky wasn’t anything like anyone else at school, or on the team, and he was sure that they would _not_ have the same reaction. Not with all the testosterone and daddy issues flying around. 

“So who’s the guy?” Bucky smiled, reassuringly, giving Steve’s shoulder a tough pat before he pulled away. Somehow it just made him feel worse, reminding him of everything once again. 

“Oh, I don’t know if I should say. Well I don’t know if I _can_ say.”

“Why? Are you dating? Is it a secret? Are they not out yet? Oh, does he have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Or both? Wa-“

“Stop with the questions! Ugh. No, no, no, yes, no, no. So it’s never going to happen. He made that… as clear as anything.” 

Steve watched in slight but repressed amusement as he watched Bucky try and figure out the order of his original questions to Steve’s answers. 

“Do I know him?” 

“What did I just say about the questions? Yeah… You do.” 

Steve then realised that Bucky only knows one guy who’s openly queer and dating another guy and begrudgingly realised his mistake. Internally cursing his sudden need to talk about his feelings or something. 

“Tony?!” Bucky announced to every garbage can and rat in the alleyway. “I- I didn’t even think you too were close, let alone…”

“Okay, it’s not a big deal.” _Actually it was a very, very big deal._

“How long?” Enthusiastic all of a sudden, Bucky practically jumped as he asked the question.

“Well… Let me think, when did we go to the gig together for the very first time?” 

“Um… About four months ago.”

“Okay. Four months.” Steve said in a shattered, quick breath. _God, had it really been that long?_ He decided to interrupt whatever bout of surprise or shock that was about to come from his friend. “But it’s just a crush. I mean, we slept together bu-“

“You SLEPT TOGETHER?!” 

“This is why I didn’t want to talk inside! Look, you cannot tell Natasha, or anyone for that matter. He made it very clear that it was a one-time thing a-and he wasn’t interested in me in that way. That’s why I’ve been so weird. Ty can’t know. I don’t trust him, Buck, I don’t.”

“I don’t think anyone in their right mind would trust that guy… I just can’t believe… When? Wait, no. When we went camping?! You said you two went to go buy Doritos from the gas station and that you got lost!” 

“You actually believed that?” Steve replied, asking it with as much concern as Bucky asked him.

“Well sorry, I didn’t know you were _gay_ then.” 

“I’m not gay. I… I don’t know what I am. And I really don’t know if I can think about being _anything_ right now.” 

Sexuality was turning out to be a much more confusing prospect than he’d originally thought. Life was definitely easier before, when he was with Sharon. They were the perfect picturesque college couple, the football player and the cheerleader. (Although Sharon did gymnastics and kick boxing and all of the cheerleaders were extremely jealous of her). And it was easy, she was amazing. Maybe Steve was too stubborn for easy, too vigilant, unsatisfied, he wondered why it wasn’t enough. The alternative was so much harder, but he was alive now. Really, alive. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be anything. And whatever you are, or aren’t, I’ll still be your friend. I hope you believe me.” 

Steve just nodded. And smiled for a bit. 

“Hey. Please come tonight. Tony will be there, but, Ty’s on vacation or something? Or he’s just gone to France – I don’t know it’s some rich people thing. Besides, it’s a big shindig type thing, you’ll hardly see ‘em. ‘Might make you feel better?” 

Considering how overly and unexpectedly supportive Bucky was. He could at least owe him that. Maybe seeing Tony would be a good thing, give him closure of some sort.

“Fine. Just for you.” 

“Hell yes!”

But just as he expected, the party was a disaster. 

It was a friend of a friend of a friend’s party, their team had just won some college basketball competition and decided to go all out. Steve didn’t really keep up with college sports lately besides football, mostly because he had to. He had too much to drink, that was for sure, trying to gain some courage so he could retain some dignity for when he saw Tony. 

Sometimes he wished he could go back to simpler times when the only parties he ever went to were late night study sessions with some people from his chem class, who would bring cases full of beer to build morale or something. It was simpler, and quieter, with a lot less drama and a lot less angst that made him think _’I’m 21. Is this my life now? Why couldn’t I have done all this when I was 17 and didn’t get hungover?’_ A thought that only made him drink more. 

He’d also gotten so used to Tony and his friend’s genre of music that hearing anything else sounded wrong, and generally didn’t put him in a good mood. 

“What is it like?” Bucky asked out of nowhere as he opened his beer across a table from Steve. They must’ve moved the dining room table into the kitchen prior to the party, crowding it with ice buckets of beer, a punch bowl and many, many bowls of chips. His tone resembled a very curious child. 

“What is _what_ like?” Steve replied, annoyance in his voice. Glancing at a couple of strangers who were talking by the stove, but he’d tuned out their conversation along with the music booming through the doors.

“You know…” He nodded, trying to imply something that Steve wasn’t in the mood to guess, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in response. “Doin’ it with a guy.”

“Dude.” Bluntly, tilting his head to the side and glaring at Bucky like he was a moron, sparing a look at the couple behind him and being glad they weren’t paying attention to them either. “Why do you even wanna know? Not that I’m going to talk to you about it.” 

“Relax, I’m… _Intrigued._” He said in a jovial tune.

“Drink. Shut up.”

“Come ooooon. Please. Pretty please?” 

Steve sighed, peering around the overly purple and yellow kitchen and swiping the condensation off of his beer bottle with his thumb. 

“It’s… It’s kinda like…” 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t spend all his time thinking about. His mind always wandering back to the woods when he was just trying to go about his day. 

What it was like? 

_Well…_

Images flashed through his head. Tony on his back, flushed pink in the face, his cheeks. Tony on his hands, on his knees. The sounds he made, the-

“No! No, I am not telling you anything!” He shook his head at his friend, although it was mostly at himself for thinking the way he was. 

“Aw! Man! Screw you! Alright, I’m gonna go find me-lady…” 

“She’s not your lady if you haven’t asked her out moron.”

“Yeah well at least I’m not too scared to tell someone I like them.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his hands shrugging with them as he began to turn to where the party was warming up. Steve scoffed at the back of his head. He wasn’t wrong, Steve never thought himself to be a coward, that didn’t mean he wasn’t utterly and completely hopeless when it came to romantic situations. That had been proven many, many times. 

Coincidentally he also sucked at small talk and social chatter so after he watched Bucky delve into the horrendous depths of cheering and the sound of _something_ probably very expensive being smashed, he decided to head to the bathroom. 

Squeezing through a mound of couples making out and grinding into the people behind them trying to talk, the corridor to the bathroom was far too narrow and he imagined there would be a very long line to get in, the downstairs bathroom being a prime location for having drunk mediocre sex and tactical throw-ups. 

The end of the hallway didn’t blank out the noise, but definitely quietened it. There was not in fact a line for the bathroom, but the short white wooden door was shut, so he assumed that someone was inside. 

“Yes, mom I’m okay.” 

A voice to his right struck a nerve on the back of his neck, freezing to the point of no return. 

Tony stood in a crevice under the stairwell, he knew it was his straight away, the sound of his voice, the back of his head. He’d cut his hair a little shorter but undoubtedly, he recognised the curve of his neck, the last thing he’d seen when he was left in the woods. There was an insecurity in his posture, a little hunched, one arm wrapped around himself and the other pressing his phone tight against his ear. 

“Yeah I have enough money. Yeah, I’m eating enough. Mom, I’m 18, I think I know basic survival skills by now…”

He didn’t know what to do, if he walked away, Tony might turn around and see and he’ll look like a gutless idiot who can’t even bare to be around him. If he stayed, and whoever was in the bathroom decided to take their sweet time, he might have to actually talk to him. Although, a part of him wanted to speak to him, and he really needed to pee. 

“Mother you know that when I’m on speaker phone I can hear when Howard is talking shit about me. _Yeah Dad, I know that water isn’t booze why don’t you take some of your own advice you fucking -_ Did you just take me off speaker? Well tell him I’ll call him Howard all I want it’s his name isn’t it? What’s he gonna do? I’m not there. Alright, alright I’m sorry I’ll stop... Oh are you sure _he_ wants me to come home for the holidays?”

He didn’t really remember his father. He tried to, and his mother would always show him photos and talk about how brave and sometimes prideful he was. The problem was that, because he grew up without his father, he had nothing to compare him to, nothing to be grateful for or nothing to be resentful toward. But he missed his mom. Whenever Tony talked about his mom, he always sounded like he was describing the world, rich in life and beautiful, aged now but full of love and knowledge if you went looking for it. Steve always listened more intently than Tony thought he was, because he missed that feeling of having someone who loved you relentlessly and unconditionally, and that you would love the same way. 

Tony only ever spoke about his father on the roof. 

“Oh, Obie’s in town? He’s ther- no, no don’t put him on the phone. I gotta go. Really- I.” Steve watched as Tony’s fist clenched and released, sprawling into the air as his words slowly formed together. He remembered the name. “Can you tell him I’ve gotta study this week so I can’t see him? Okay.. Okay I love you too. Okay bye mom.” 

_Oh no. They still aren’t out the bathroom – screw you premarital-unprotected-probably-gonna-regret-it-sex for ruining my life in more ways than one – maybe he’ll just go the other way into the party, maybe he won’t-_

“Oh.” Tony blinked, wide eyed up at Steve as he spun around. “Uh… hi there… Stranger.” His face was almost just as confused and pink as the last time he saw him, a black sweater crawling up his neck and curving around his collarbones, tight around the base of his neck. Steve had wished that when he next saw Tony, he would realise that he wasn’t as beautiful as he thought, unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen. 

“Hi...” Steve cleared his throat after he spoke. Tony wobbled back and forth on his heels and looked around. 

“Seriously, I don’t know who you are, have we met?” Tony squinted up at Steve like he was trying to make him out. Adorable, so cute in an annoying way it made him want to tear himself limb from limb. Steve laughed, nervously, unsure if he was allowed.

He settled on a smile. Friendly. Casual. Pretend that you’re not phased. Be _cool_.

“Hi Tony.” He repeated. “I’ve been busy…”

“Busy standing around eavesdropping? You’re turning out to be a lot nosier than I thought.” Raising an eyebrow, there was another crash coming from the living room, catching their attention at the same time. Too bad it wasn’t enough to distract Tony from how strange Steve looked then.

“What? No, no I wasn’t uh, listening to you on the phone if that’s what you think – I’m waiting for the bathroom.” 

Tony wasn’t convinced, interrogative eyes staring up at him and his mouth ruched to one side. He peered at the closed door beside him, kneeling down to observe something on the door itself. He wrapped his hand around the gold doorknob, Steve trying not to visibly cringe as he casually twisted it and pulled it towards him. Revealing an unlocked door and an empty bathroom. 

Steve grew more and more fond of the idea of drinking until he couldn’t walk and flushing his head down the toilet, in either order. He laughed deprecatingly, without an inch of real joy. 

“I… Really had no idea.” 

Tony laughed, sounding more like a breath of relief than anything. “I’m starting to think you only got into college ‘cuz you’re pretty.” 

Steve laughed naturally for the first time in weeks, almost immediately forgetting about the looming awkwardness-ghost in the hallway with them. Tony had that effect on him, and the exact opposite on a lot of other people. The ability to make people want to hug him or hit him after one or two meticulously thought out sentences. 

Tony wore a placid and fidgety smile behind sunken eyes, as if Steve’s presence was relieving and discomforting at once. He knew that because he felt similarly.

_Now what?_

“How have you been?” Steve choked out pathetically. He hated small talk and knew Tony hated it just as much if not more. 

Tony somehow looked offended he’d asked. “Uh well you know… Fine. I’d ask you the same but your friend tells me you’re always sick, glad to see you’re well enough to make it out tonight though. I was beginning to wonder when you were gonna heal from complete-and-utter-baloney disease.”

Steve was caught out, and wasn’t sure how to react. Run away? Cry? All plausible options but he liked to think he had at least a grain of dignity left. 

“Uhhghh… I didn’t think you’d wanna see me after how we… left things and all that.” 

“But you wanted to see me?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I don’t think I should say.” 

It might have been his own ego trying to protect him, but he swore he could see a flash of disappointment across Tony’s brow, and doubt in the twitch in his lip. 

He swore he’d heard a song about this before, two people, at a party, a boy and a girl but that wasn’t important. Both of them had too much to say and no way to say it, internal regrets and unshared trauma, dancing around each other until one of them twirls into the arms of someone else and it’s too late.

“Right. Yeah.” Replied Tony with an air of apathy in his voice, looking to the hallway wall that hung a picture of the host and his parents. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go find Bruce, last I saw him he was drinking tequila like coke. And we all know how that story ends.” Sliding through the suddenly tiny seeming gap between Steve and wall, a casual smile and the shrug of his shoulders up at him like he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all, did he.

He caught a glimpse of the skin below Tony’s chin as he grazed past him, as tentative as the night he first touched him, his body slightly shy around him, unwilling to release the tension in his muscles. The way his dark hair curled behind his ears, all too familiar and all too lovely for him. He walked away and didn’t look back, not that he was expecting him too, leaving Steve to stand there with nothing, only to admire the curls behind his ears.

He decided to look for a bathroom upstairs. 

Avoiding eye contact with a couple of girls gossiping on the steps and clutching onto their empty red cups pretending to be invested in whatever gripping drama the other was talking about, he found upstairs to be mostly empty. Opening the first door he saw.

When at an overcrowded house party with drunken horny college students, you learn to brace yourself before you open a closed door, but he found something, or better yet someone he wasn’t expecting to see.

Alone, sad, sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed that was perfectly made, emptier than it should be. 

“Oh – I’m sorry.” Steve said out of habit, feeling drunker than he thought he was and stuck in the crack of the door wondering whether it was okay to stay or to go. 

“It’s fine, you can come in. Just little ol’ me here anyways.” Said Natasha from the middle of the dimly lit room, leaning back on her hands and sighing in a melancholy way. 

He came in and shut the door behind him. Mostly out of obligation.

“I was just looking for the bathroom. And some… quiet. Guess you’re doing the same.” Steve said with a polite smile. 

“You could say that.” 

He sat beside her, the bed sinking ever so slightly beneath his weight. Her sombre voice carried the weight of everything Steve felt too. 

“I would’ve thought you’d be down there, you know, having fun?” 

She smiled at him in her usual way, obviously picking up on his not so subtle attempt to ask her why she was hiding in an empty bedroom.

“It’s uhh… overwhelming.” He’d never seen her brow furrow with so much self-doubt before, he hadn’t ever really gotten a chance to know her even though he wanted to. Always fronting with confidence and propping up an impenetrable steel wall. 

“I didn’t think anything could overwhelm you.” Steve realised how naïve he sounded, but it was true, he’d seen Natasha scream into a mic for an hour straight and then proceed to chug beer while Rhodey and Thor held her upside down, and return to her feet as if it was natural to her, wearing a cool smile and making men and women tear their hearts out.

“Neither did I…” She chewed on what Steve had said for a minute or two, while he watched her eyes search the carpet for some sort of answer. 

She sat up straight, and turned to him.

“It’s overwhelming… Isn’t it?”

“What is?” Steve replied, tipsy and confused.

But when he looked at her, into her glossy, mournful eyes he knew. He knew and understood.

“Yeah…” She sighed. 

“I know.” Sympathetically, he grazed his thumb against the edge of her wrist as he thought of what to say. But his clouded mind had its own thoughts. “It makes you wonder how you felt before you were… Overwhelmed. And whether you’ll ever go back to being that – that ignorant, that ignorant and free before you met – before it happened.” 

“I’ve never been unsure of anything before. I miss that control, having control over how I feel. It was comforting.”

Oh, how he missed that control too. How he never realised how much he needed to hear the words coming out of someone else’s mouth to realise he wasn’t crazy. 

“But…” His increasingly drunk mouth wandered. “It feels so good to let it go.” Thinking back to the woods, giving it up, all of himself, all of his control and restraint. All for him. Only for him. 

“Is it? I’ve been asking that of myself. Whether I should just, lose control.” She looked at him intently, blurry red lips and flushed cheeks. 

“Yes.” He admitted, not to her, to himself. “It’s intense.” He leaned into her, closer to the comfort of feeling like he wasn’t alone. For once. 

He felt that she might be doing the same. Maybe. He couldn’t tell. Everything started to seem less clear, hazier.

“Really?” Softly, edging closer to him. 

She kissed him. He didn’t know how, or why, or when, it happened, but it did. 

So he went with it, for some reason he didn’t really know. It just seemed like the right thing to do in that moment. There was something too vulnerable in her kiss that he felt bad pulling away from. That drunk, stubborn flood in his brain made sure he thought it was fine and that it was just ‘something he should do’.

It was comfort to a sickening and sad degree, that was all. He was too inebriated to know if that meant it was right or not. 

Too inebriated to react as fast as he should have to light arching into the room after the swing of the open door. 

Turning away from each other and toward the door, to see Tony slugging a nearly passed out Bruce under his arm. 

The look on Tony’s face sobered him up faster than any amount of sleep or coffee ever could.

“Oh.” He finally announced. “Come on Bruce, lets take you into a different room and leave these two in peace.” 

It suddenly dawned on him. Tony. Natasha. He’d been making out with Natasha - _What the fuck?!_. She looked at him with a mixture of worry and frustration, devising her own plan, all the while Steve felt as though he might be sick. What would Tony think of him?

“God, let me handle this.” Composing herself as she followed Tony out the room, all Steve could manage was to follow her to the door, hiding behind the wall and watching as Tony emerged from a different room after assumingly placing Bruce on a strangers bed to rest. 

They were alike in that way, Tony and Natasha, wearing unreadable expressions as they both prepared for whatever was about to happen. 

“Oh, you’re here, thought you were too busy making out with everybody’s favourite golden-boy. So. Is he any good?” 

“Wha- I’m sorry, are you angry with me?” Natasha responded, befuddled. 

Steve wondered when he’d become such a coward. Hiding from conflict.

“No, why would I be angry?” Tony answered with a bitter sarcasm. Steve didn’t need to see his face and it made his teeth ache.

Steve thought to himself, yes, why would he be angry? 

“Are you serious, Tony? Wha- Not that this is even any of your business-“

“Oh yeah it’s not my business, not like you two are… Making out for anyone to walk in and see. Like, _Bucky_.”

There was silence for a moment, well, not silence, the music continued to boom through the house but Natasha’s silence was so alarming that Steve stepped out into the hallway.

Tony’s eyes were full of dread as he saw Steve over Natasha’s shoulder. 

“You know what, this might be hard for you to hear, but he doesn’t belong to you! He’s not yours Tony! Get over it!” 

He looked at her with a clenched jaw. Tense. Nervous. He looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment. But he didn’t. 

“You’re right. He’s not. Do whatever you want with him. I don’t care.”

Tony looked between them both, vitriol has spun from his tongue and suddenly Steve noticed a small tear smudge at the corner of the eye. Which was the moment he took off down the stairs, not giving either of them any mind, any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! This is a shorter chapter as I haven't posted in a while (as you probably know) and I need to ease myself back into writing before I start dishing out big beefy chapters but I hope you enjoyed this one regardless! I hope you are all staying safe in the current state of the world and know I will be posting updates to all my fics more frequently because I've currently got nothing but time :,).


	5. very special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Violence, Death  
[Proceed with caution]  
\+ enjoy :)

Several hours passed each and every day with Steve Rogers staring out of his window watching the trees shed their leaves and their orange and brown spines being crunched beneath students passing by with no idea that he was looking down at them. He didn’t go out. He didn’t want to draw, or read, didn’t want to partake in any childish games the guys were executing in his dorm. 

Trying to get over Tony Stark was more than just a mission. He’d faced loneliness before but not like this. Shutting his eyes and all he could see in the darkness was the olive outline of his shoulder, the dip in his collarbone that could carry an ocean of knowledge and his neck – lips, bitten and bruised, cheeks, nose, eyes. Bright brown eyes looking back at him with intrigue and wonder and then…

Disdain.

The constant reminder that he would probably never have the privilege of being touched and admired by Tony Stark again. 

Maybe all they were meant to be was a temporary happiness, maybe they were never meant to be anything more than a one night stand in the woods and a few late nights of deep conversations, prodding at one another’s souls but never to get any further within.

Bucky had been out a lot recently, too, not always telling Steve where, not that he had too, but still, his room and his phone felt emptier and emptier. Maybe Natasha had told him what happened, maybe he just decided he didn’t want to be around him anymore, which at this point, wouldn’t be surprising. Recently, people around him had a tendency of leaving.

He missed Tony’s forehead against his. 

“Hey. Man, I’m goin’ out, text me if you need anything.” Buck had only just got back to the dorm, only to change his jacket from a thin navy bomber jacket to a thicker green raincoat.

“Okay – Wait. Can I talk to you? It’s cool if you’re busy.” Steve turned around from the pile of thin pillows and blankets he had been shoving his face into. Figuring if he were to successfully ‘move on’ from a relationship he never had he should probably take some initiative and maybe not let all of his friendships degrade in front of him. 

Bucky looked hesitant, which wasn’t unusual. 

“Uh… Yeah, sure, what’s up?” Looking up from his phone and proceeding to shove it into his pocket. Implying he was ready to listen. He was good at listening when he knew it was going to be something serious. 

“Right. Well. Uh.” Sitting up on the edge of his bed, back to the window for the first time in days. “I need to own up to something.” Steve let out a big sigh to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

“Seems like you got a lot of secrets lately.” Said Bucky through a half-smile, pulling the chair away from his desk across from Steve and sitting in it haphazardly. 

“Ha- trust me, I’m not lookin’ for ‘em.” He groaned adjusting himself.

Steve must have been looking at Bucky more intensely than he had meant to, although Steve had been told before that he can be intense sometimes. It was mostly due to the fact he was trying to think of what to say to him. Bucky was, or hopefully still is his best friend, he betrayed him, and his trust in him. Steve never thought he was that kind of person but the last year had been a true ode to self-reflection.

“Alright, uh, so… Here’s the deal.” He cleared his throat. “Last week, at the party… I-“

“Kissed Natasha? Yeah, I know.” 

Steve froze, swearing internally over and over again. 

“I- You-“

“Yeah I know.”

“I’m guessing she told you.” Steve looked at the ground like a dog that just got caught peeing on the carpet. 

“No, actually. Bruce told me. Slipped out in conversation, didn’t know me and Natasha were a thing. I haven’t spoke to her, and she’s not the type to text first.” 

His friend didn’t really seem angry, or even disappointed, just… confused. 

“I was waiting to see when you’d tell me yourself, if ever.” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all the breath in his lungs could manage at that moment. “I really, really don’t know what happened. No, I know what happened, I was super drunk and I guess she was too and she was talking to me… Ugh…”

He felt pathetic trying to explain himself, the look Bucky gave him only added to that, that look that says _’Seriously?’_, and overall just makes you want to curl up into a ball and stew in your own awfulness. 

“I don’t get what’s been going on with you lately Steve.” Bucky huffed. “I thought you were into Tony.”

“I was! I… am. I think that’s why I went along with it. Was feeling sorry for myself. I’m sorry. Buck, I really am. It wasn’t anything, I swear. Just… Ugh, I don’t know what it was.” 

_Bad, bad friend._

“Whatever… It was just a kiss, right?”

“Still, I’m sorry.” 

Bucky nodded and looked away, Steve, searching his face for a reaction, forgiveness, anything, at this point. 

“If it’s any consolation…” Steve began. “I think she really, really likes you, Buck.” 

“Yeah and how’d you gather that from her tongue in your mouth?” He looked as though he regretted it as soon as he said it, an out of character, annoyed and subconscious thought that had somehow managed to spill out of his mouth and make Steve feel even worse. “’Sorry.” He muttered.

“I get it. She… was upset. I don’t think she knew how to handle her feelings. And I know what that’s like.” 

There was something on Steve’s face that genuinely made his friend believe in him. 

“You really think so?” 

“I know so. I think you’re both scared but you really like each other so just… go for it. Sorry, I’m really in no position to be giving you advice right now.” 

“Nah.” Bucky said after a long and thoughtful sigh. “You’re alright. Maybe this was the wake up call I needed. Well, you could’ve taught me my lesson using different methods but – yeah. It’s cool.”

“Are you sure? So we’re –“ Clearing his throat – “- We’re good?” 

“Sure, we’re good, Steve.” He stood up and began walking over to him, if Bucky were someone else, Steve would’ve thought he was about to punch him in the face, not like he didn’t deserve it. “Glad I don’t have to kick your ass.” 

He smiled ever so slightly as Bucky reached out for a handshake which turned into an eventual awkward half-sitting-half-standing hug, patting each other on the back firmly. They didn’t often hug, but it wasn’t foreign to them, at this point, they were more like family than friends. 

Steve was glad to know he still had his family.

They both coughed into their fists after pulling apart, trying to maintain their masculinity and act as though neither of them enjoyed the embrace what-so-ever, after all there was nothing less macho than having a mature conversation about a problem and resolving it without beating the shit out of each other. 

“Guess I’m just gonna have to make out with Tony.” Bucky quipped.

“Please _don’t_ do that.” Steve laughed lightly. 

“Yeah, guys are your thing. I’ll stick to girls that are way out of my league.” 

“I think that’s best for both of us.” Steve smiled, and didn’t realise how naturally it came to him. 

“Yeah, maybe. Well I’m gonna head out and… give Nat a call. I’ll see you later if you’re around, I’ll steal Ryan’s Switch and we can play Smash.” 

“Cool.” Steve tried not to sound too relieved, balancing it out with a casual nod. 

Bucky gave Steve an anxious yet reaffirming smile before left, shutting the door behind him and for the first time that week it shut on a Steve that felt somewhat content. 

Feeling a sudden burst of adrenaline and productivity from his and Bucky’s make-up session he decided not to lie on his bed listening to playlists he imagined Tony might make for him and feeling sorry for himself and clean his area of the room. Most of the time Steve operated like a soldier, making his bed every morning, not leaving a single crease on the bed or a sock on the floor, but his recent escapades had turned him into a bit of a slob. 

Tearing the headphone jack out and playing some music from his phone, vowing to try and get him out of this Tony shaped hole he’d dug himself into. 

He didn’t know where to start first, standing in the centre of his room. He looked to his studies, _no_. What about some drawing? _No, not right now._ He scanned every outlet in the room until he reached the pile of clothes on his desk chair and socks beneath his bed. Sorting through the clean from the dirty, worn and unworn, new and _oh god I should have thrown that out years ago – is it growing something?_ for a while until some 80s soul music started playing. 

Like nobody was watching, slowly moving his hips, bopping his head. The song was _Very Special_ by Debra Laws, which made Steve _really_ start feeling himself. 

Before he even realised himself, he was folding clothes with a rhythm in his step like he was on his own personal stage. Hanging up shirts as he mouthed the words with a swing in his hips. 

He felt pretty good, he shaved, changed out of his pyjamas, all in time for the chorus of Chaka Khan’s _I’m Every Woman_. Shutting the curtains and having a private (emphasis on _private_) boogie in his room. Everything seemed fine, he was partying on his own, getting his life back together, he made up with his friend, he made his BED, it was fine, it was-

“Ahem.” 

Steve had never stopped doing something so fast in his life. Spinning around towards the door as if he’d just been caught his hands don his pants although this was way, _way_ worse. Oh God, he recognised that voice. He could recall that voice better than his own.

_Of course. Of-course Tony Stark would be standing at my door at this very moment._

With that smug, arrogant, know-it-all smile he adored and hated. 

“T- Tony.” Steve stuttered as he scrambled to turn the music off, red as a beet. He stood up straight like nothing had happened, crossing his arms and clearing his throat one two many times. “What – uh – What are you doing here?” 

Tony smiled, letting himself into the room and shutting the door behind him, gliding around the room with ease and making it his own, maybe to make himself more comfortable in the situation. “Well I didn’t mean to interrupt you and the other Village People but I had a free period and decided to stop by.” 

_Why?_ Steve thought, last time he’d seen Tony was the party, and the last time before that was when he abandoned him in the middle of the woods. Neither had been pleasant. So why now? Why would he seek him out? 

“Why?” He said aloud, followed by a blush.

Tony looked up at him, those big glowing eyes seemed to burn into Steve’s skin even fiercer in the light, his smile which was a delight to see, he’d missed it. 

“Oh, well.” Tony began, resting his hand on top of Bucky’s bed post, leaning against it, like he was trying to stand his own ground, affirm himself in a comfortable position with enough distance away from Steve who stood awkwardly in the middle of the tiny bedroom. “I was in town, shopping, grabbing lunch and whatever, I broke up with Ty, saw a really adorable dog –“

“Wait, what?” 

“Oh, yeah, I broke up with Ty.” Tony was so obviously trying very hard to act nonchalant, his grip on the bed post tightening. “Well, pretty much. Can’t reach him in Europe so I just left all his stuff in the hall and had the locks changed, which I think’ll do the trick, don’t you?” 

Steve was in shock. Genuine, shock. Happy, it made him happy, for only a second. Because why should it matter to him? Tony didn’t want him anyway, right? If anything, he should be angry at Tony, angry for leaving him, for getting upset with him and Natasha while he had a boyfriend the entire time. But he wasn’t. All he could do was pretend for his own sake. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve asked in a serious tone. 

Tony paused. Stopping to think for a moment, which was unusual because most of the time it seemed like Tony either didn’t think at all before talking or that his brain operated like a faulty calculator that didn’t always give correct answers. 

He began to walk over to Steve, his hand raised as if he was going to speak but he didn’t. Not until he stood before him, chewing the corner of his gum and waiting for the exact, right, moment. 

“We weren’t a good match… I guess I should have listened to what you said.” He spoke reluctantly, unwilling to admit it. “And that… what happened, with us, you know… In the woods. It wasn’t just _that_.” 

Clenching his jaw, Steve tried to stay composed. Try not to overreact over what he’d just heard, if he’d heard him right at all. 

“Well. I better get going, I have a workshop this afternoon.” 

Steve forgot that he had to speak. 

“I hope I’ll see you around, Steve. Maybe get to see more of your moves.” Tony smiled in a way that made his cheeks swell, standing in the door frame before he would turn to leave.

“Bye!” Steve blurted out as he was halfway out of the door, his brain was still processing the words Tony had spoke to him. 

Steve spent the rest of the day trying to deal with the events of that morning. Smiling, then confusion, confused smiling. Wondering why Tony would have lied to him in the woods and why he said what he did at the party. 

But he recalled what Natasha had said to him. Why she’d kissed him at all – it was all an act of self-defence. 

Tony had already torn down too many walls for Steve, the secrets he’d whispered to him, the songs he showed him. He was so close to truly opening himself up to Steve that it scared him. It scared him like loving Bucky scared Natasha. 

Steve would be lying if he said he hadn’t been scared too.

But he was done being a coward, hiding from the world and hiding from his feelings. If he wanted Tony and he did, _God, he did_, he would need to get a grip and go get him. 

He devised a plan. He’d be romantic, or at least try.

He texted Rhodey, unsure as to whether Tony and Natasha had made up and not wanting that to impact his plan. He asked Rhodey to send a text to Tony when he was ready, with some random but casual lure like “Hey I went up on your roof to smoke when I was over and now I can’t find my ID??? Can you go check for me?”

That’s where Steve would be. Waiting on the roof for him because he couldn’t think of anywhere more appropriate. The first time he’d touched Tony’s skin, heard his secrets and his pain, and realised he was deep in it. 

He wore a navy-blue shirt that matched the sky that night. A few stars decided to make an appearance, maybe they knew, the city was usually too bright with artificial lights to see any of them. 

He was nervous, shaking, actually. He should’ve prepared something to say but that would’ve been too much. But now he was worried Tony would come upstairs and find a shaking and curled up Steve, sweating through his shirt and bawling his eyes out. 

That wasn’t going to happen, though. 

Every second waiting seemed like an hour, he paced back and forth making sure the tiny tea candles he’d lit on the brick wall hadn’t gone out, using a red lighter with ‘AHHHH’ carved into it that Tony left in his room. He should have given it back but it made him smile so he kept it in his drawer. 

There was a clanging of metal from behind him, he turned towards it in enough time to swipe his thoughtful thumb away from his lip. 

Tony emerged from the fire exit door, dressed in a large hoodie and pyjama pants, some slide on shoes and Steve had never thought he looked more adorable. 

He stopped in surprise when he saw Steve, standing tall with his hands held together by the edge of the roof. He didn’t say anything for a while, but then smiled. And Steve smiled back, shyly at first. 

“Well you aren’t Rhodey’s keys.” He said softly without an ounce of sarcasm in his voice, looking around the little lights dotted around the roof as he walked across the concrete. 

A gentle laugh passed from Steve’s lips, the sight of Tony’s smile was comforting for the first time, he wasn’t scared, not at all. 

“Hey.” Finally, with enough courage to speak into the cold evening. Feeling warmer at the sight of _him_. “I know this is probably a little unexpected.”

“A little? You caught me in my jammies.” 

“I’m sorry about that.” Steve replied with a smile. “I wanted to speak with you about something, something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Tony’s lips parted as if he were about to say something, but stopped himself. Like he was about to make a snide remark or sarcastic comment out of habit and realised it wasn’t the time. 

“Shoot.” He said simply, shoving his hands into the pouch of his hoodie and looking up at Steve with those big suns for eyes. 

“Right. Well.” 

Steve swallowed tight before he began, it hurt, like the words were reluctant to come out after all this time of pushing them away. But he was ready now to bare any pain he would come across. 

“I… Tony I think you’re great. Well more than great. I haven’t met anyone like you and I don’t think I ever will. I knew that the first time I ever saw you. It was like everything I thought I knew about myself just disappeared and I didn’t remember what my life was like before I met you or I didn’t want to remember. And God I wish I could think of a word for it because I’d be doing you am injustice to just say I like you. I wish it was that simple but really, I’d do _anything_ for you. Just name it.”

There was a sad glimmer in Tony’s eye, they flickered and searched Steve’s face. Like he was confused, like he’d never heard anyone say anything like that to him in his life. His lip quivered as if he wanted to say _’Why?_

“So how do I know you’re telling the truth?” 

Tony. Lost, betrayed, Tony - who had only ever been lied to his whole life, so much that he’d mastered the art himself. 

Steve didn’t have to think. He knew what he’d do, because it was theirs. He leaned towards Tony, who was leaning towards him, as if to gently rest his forehead upon his.

But he was interrupted, to this surprise, as Tony leapt up onto his toes to throw his arms around him, kissing him with as much force as he could, until Steve would hold his back for support, and he could kiss him back, as gentle as he felt for him. 

He let himself believe it was happening, Tony was really in his arms, grabbing his cheeks like Steve was giving him the air to breathe. 

Out of all the times he’d kissed Tony. It was the first time that Tony kissed him. 

“I- I know I don’t have a lot of money and I’m not all that brainy but –“ Steve gasped as he pulled away, hugging Tony close to him, looking at every freckle, mole and pimple on his face to remind himself that it was really him and this was happening. 

“Shut up.” Tony replied with a teary-eyed grin. “You won me over the second I saw that stupid little notebook. I’m… I’m sorry I wasted so much time.” His fingers grazed through Steve’s overgrown hair, trying to get his senses used to the feeling. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve got me, Tony. You had me the whole time.” 

_Is this what it feels like to be in love?_

“All this time I just – Fuck. Wanted… wanted to… You know.” Tonys eyes fell onto Steve’s lips, his leg tapping on the floor nervously. All it took was for Steve to tilt his chin up, and kiss him gently, for it all to stop. For it all to finally make sense.

Holding him in the dark, he felt seen when he’d felt invisible the entire time. He wasn’t scared of anything anymore, he wasn’t scared that Tony was going to flake out on him, turn around and say he’d changed his mind. This was different. This was everything. 

“Will you come downstairs?” Tony whispered into his lips.

“Of course.”

The two of them spent the entire night on their sides, looking at one another, lying on Tony’s bed and talking about everything that they had spent months talking around, like it was them and them alone, floating in space on Tony’s queen-sized bed. A small strobe light lit the ceiling in red and blue and they kissed between sentences, smiling because they had no reason not to, intertwining delicate fingers because they didn’t need to hide.

“I want to do this right.” Steve said softly, pulling away from Tony’s lips that he’d kissed raw. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony smirked. “You goin’ to take me out to dinner and buy me flowers? I thought we were past that by now.” 

“I don’t see why not.” Steve replied with an enthusiastic smile, pulling a stray curl out of Tony’s eye with the tips of his fingers – Tony’s eyes would narrow as if he was concerned about what Steve was doing to him, but there was something about how his jaw relaxed as his gaze fell back onto Steve’s face, his soft, warm eyes would show how he remembered he was safe, and that he was allowed to enjoy the warmth of another person. One day, Steve hoped, it would be so natural that Tony would have no doubts at all, and Steve could watch game shows with him and listen to his music just to make him happy, and it would be normal. “You deserve to be looked after.” 

Tony waved his hands around uncomfortably, speaking in a sarcastic tone that was so rehearsed he must have practised it a hundred times. “Yeah, that’s all a little too _gooey_ for me, so.” Even Tony seemed to notice it. “But… Um… I wouldn’t say no to the movies or, whatever.” 

Steve just smiled. “I kinda like _gooey_.”

“Well you would, wouldn’t you? After all you _are_ Every Woman.” 

A guttural groan escaped Steve followed by a hand on his brow. “Please, _please_ don’t tell anyone about that.” 

Tony laughed a real childish laugh, it was almost a giggle. Steve looked up from hiding his face in shame just to be sure, Tony had never made a noise like that around him before. 

“Alright. It can be our lil’ secret. _Our_ first secret. ‘That sound okay?”

“Is _this_ going to be our secret?” Steve asked suddenly.

Tony chewed on his lip. “I think I’m just about done with secrets, really. Might take a shot at telling the truth. That sounds optimistic, right? What is it those life gurus say? _’Live your truth’_? Or something awful like that.”

Steve grinned without realising that he was. “Yeah, something awful like that.” Glancing over Tony’s shoulder at the window behind him, only able to see a tall streetlamp shining yellow into the frame. “It’s getting late, maybe I should go.” He wouldn’t be able to put into words how reluctant he was to say that, how much he wanted to stay with Tony all night, curled around him and listening to him speak. But he didn’t want to seem… _needy_. 

“Oh.” Plump lips forming an ‘o’ that sat there for slightly too long. “Uh, yeah, alright.” Tony sat up immediately, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands. 

Steve had unwillingly stood up off of Tony’s bed and looked around the floor for his jacket, only to feel hot thin fingers around his wrist. Tony’s chin tilted up towards him, his dark and lovely eyes consuming all of Steve that was in front of him. 

“Or you could like… Not do that.” 

Steve was pulled into Tony’s embrace, his lips and everything he wanted to offer and Steve would accept all of it. The hours that went by as they explored one another, every nook and every cranny until they exhausted themselves, and the rest was history. 

-

Winter was growing closer but Steve didn’t even notice the cold. The weeks that went by with Tony were just pure unadulterated bliss.

Sure, Tony and Steve hadn’t put a label or a nice wooden sign on their relationship, or whatever it was. But that was fine, why wouldn’t it be? When almost every day was just talking, food, sex, talking, sex, sex, more sex, talking, more food and the occasional movie binge. 

He noticed he was starting to get a little more chub in the midriff area but he didn’t care. Because he was happy.

For the first time, in a long time, he was happy.

No one knew about them just yet, only Bucky, who partially had to tell him where he was all the time and because sometimes Tony wanted to come over and cuddle in _his_ bed. Bucky didn’t mind, in fact, he was glad for them. 

What Steve loved the most, really, was learning new things about Tony every day. There was something so endearing about his quiet days, when he just wanted to read and create, floating off into his own little world of wires and spanners and robots, sitting on his living room floor, singing to himself in a jokey-deep voice and asking Steve to lift heavy things for him without admitting it was because he couldn’t. On those cold afternoons Steve could just sit there and draw the view from Tony’s apartment, and his lips and eyes and the way his hands looked while he was fiddling around with a motherboard, red and green wire wrapped around his fingers delicately. 

He learnt about Tony’s relationship with his father. In the little that Tony told him the weight of his sunken eyes when he spoke told him all he needed to know. He also learnt about a man called Obadiah, a family friend who worked very closely with Howard Stark, he gave Tony money when he needed it after his dad cut him off. He didn’t say much else about it. 

Tony was messy, but in an organised way. He kept places that needed to be clean, like the kitchen and the bathroom, neat and tidy unless he was experimenting with something as basic as an omelette in an attempt to make Steve breakfast one morning and somehow ending up with a plate of onions and eggs all over the wall. There were piles of… Steve didn’t know what in random places around his apartment, but he knew where everything was when he needed it and didn’t appreciate it when people misplaced a piece of mess from one of his piles of messes. 

Steve did take Tony to the movies to see something called _Midsommar_, which freaked him out when he was paying attention but Tony decided to give him a hand job halfway through and so he couldn’t tell you what the rest of the movie was about. 

Steve also helped Tony bleach part of his hair, just a strand at the front that he was planning on dyeing blue another rainy day, and in the process accidentally wiped some on his own sideburn, bleaching a small part of his already blonde hair. It took a while for Tony to explain that it didn’t just ‘come off’ and he would have to wait for it to grow it out and cut it off. 

_”It looks cool. Ya know. Like a dalmatian that hasn’t got all its spots.” Tony laughed reassuringly while looking at his own hair in the mirror, flicking his hands through the blonde streak that contrasted greatly with the rest of his dark locks. Steve thought he looked really hot and spent a good fifteen minutes touching his hair and his butt and kissing him all over until he caught a glance at himself in the mirror after wondering what that weird burning sensation on the side of his head was. _

_“Dalmatians have black spots. Not white.” Steve sighed, having finally washed all of the bleach off his hair, he looked discontented at the ivory patch next to his ear. Tony’s hair had at least turned a very, very light yellow, compared to Steve’s that had turned white as snow. _

_“Yeah you’re right. Sorry about that _Mr. Malfoy_ Tony said in an objectively terrible British accent. _

_“Shut up, it looks bad doesn’t it?” Placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder so he would look at him. _

_“No, ‘cause we match now.” Smiled Tony, rubbing the white spot with the pad of his finger in a way that made Steve shiver. “Instead of friendship bracelets you got a little piece of me wherever you go.” _

Tony was a blessing if there ever was one. An angel in purposefully ripped jeans and green eyeshadow with a chip on his shoulder. 

Whenever Steve wasn’t with him, he felt like he was going through withdrawal. He had tried to tell that to Bucky one night, slightly drunk and staring at his bedroom ceiling – which only led to him being called a cringe-worthy idiot. Maybe he was right, he didn’t care if he was. 

Tony was going to meet him on campus one November afternoon at one of the very overpriced coffee shops by the library, decorated in many bright colours like a kindergarten playroom with posters about LGBT groups and petitions for more vegan options at the cafeteria. Steve never really went there himself; he didn’t start drinking coffee until he met Tony who consumed it like he needed it to stay alive. 

While he was waiting for his name to be called, he noticed a familiar voice beside him, one he hadn’t heard in a long time. 

“Excuse m- Oh, hey.” 

Sharon smiled at Steve, holding a floral pink and blue coffee cup with a sticker on it for the boxing club. 

“Oh, hi.” Steve smiled back, a little surprised at her presence and how overall calm she was about seeing him. 

They mostly avoided each other on campus, but since Steve had been with Tony, he hadn’t really thought about it, he forgot that this was one of her usual spots to study and write. 

He expected her to just keep walking with her coffee, instead she stopped beside him, letting another tired student pass by her after receiving their iced-whatever from the equally tired barista. 

“How’ve you been?” She asked politely, with a tinge of concern as she noticed the bleached patch of hair. 

“Umm. Good, yeah. Gosh, it feels like it’s been forever.” She looked unbelievably pretty, even though she’d cut her hair to her shoulders it suited her just like anything did. “What about you?” He remembered was the polite thing to say back.

“Same old. You still hang around with Buck?” 

“Well, we sleep two feet apart so it would be kind of hard not to.” He smiled. 

She chuckled, well, it was more like a passive “HmHm” behind her closed mouth, which was just at the right time for Steve’s name to be called and he could pick up his latte. Tony drank his black, but Steve hadn’t developed the taste for that just yet. 

He returned to her, offering her yet another polite, normal smile. It was strange. He thought the next time he ran into Sharon he’d be filled with dread and self-loathing and spent the next few days after the interaction thinking about what a complete toolbelt he is but weirdly, it was refreshing. He wondered if she felt the same.

“Do you wanna sit?” He asked cautiously and gestured to one of the few empty tables. 

“Sure, I haven’t got any lectures for a little while.” 

_How long had it been?_ He couldn’t even remember. 

The table they were seated at was slightly too small, round, cheap and metal, they sat across from one another on equally uncomfortable plastic seats. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Asked Sharon before taking a sip of her drink.

_Well, I’m gay, Sharon._ He thought, but realised he probably shouldn’t say.

“Just the usual. Practice, you know, not all that interesting.” 

His brain went away to a couple nights before, in Tony’s apartment. Tony walking out into his living room in nothing but some striped socks that touched the knobs of his knees with a playful smirk and saying _”Draw me like one of your French girls.”_ To remind him he was a big stinking liar. 

“You?” Innocently sipping at his drink.

“Let’s see, I quit gymnastics. But I got a grant for my research and I started teaching a self-defence class on the weekends, so, things are coming together.”

Sharon was good at making herself look much more put together than you. 

“Congrats.”

“Thank you.” 

They drank quietly for a moment. There was a student playing the piano in the corner of the store, some of his friends recording him, most people chatting loudly with their friends as if there was nothing else to listen to but each other. 

“Can I ask you something?” Said Steve, Sharon raised her brow ever so slightly but nodded as she drank. “You and me, we were… serious, right?”

“I would say so, yeah.” She laughed. 

“Right, yeah. I’m just… Wondering where it went wrong.” 

She gave him a curious look. “Trying not to make the same mistakes with someone else?” 

“I suppose so.” He said without thinking. “Sorry, you probably don’t wanna talk about this.” 

“Steve, we both moved on before we even broke up. It’s fine.” 

He nodded in agreement. 

“You didn’t really do anything _wrong_, you know? I think we were both just so focused on things that weren’t each other. It just wasn’t the right time. And that was part of your problem, you were so focused on the past and trying to make things like they were that you didn’t think about what was happening in front of you. Me, I got too preoccupied with my studies, sometimes I think I should have let myself have more fun.” She sighed as if she had wanted to get that off of her chest for a while.

“But then you might not have gotten this grant.” He smiled. “Yeah, I, uh… I think I understand that now. Thank you, Sharon. Really.” 

“It’s fine, I took philosophy 101 for a semester so now I’m extra insightful.” She laughed a little, looking down at the table. “So, who are you seeing?” 

Steve spent a little extra time drinking his coffee to stall the answer to that question – only for it to be knocked away from his mouth, getting froth all over his top lip as something came crashing down on his shoulders.

“Hello sunshine, did you forget we had a date?” Tony’s enigmatic voice beamed from behind him. “Well, I’d do the same if I had a chance to sit with such a pretty lady – Hi, I’m Tony.” He flashed her a flirtatious smile as he leaned over Steve’s shoulder to shake her hand. 

“Sharon.” She smiled, obviously confused and slightly amused.

“Hey Tony.” Steve finally got in. He’d told Tony about him and Sharon’s relationship a few times, hopefully there wouldn’t be a problem.

Sharon looked at her phone and gasped to herself. “Oh I’ve got class, I gotta go. It was nice talking to you, Steve.” She said thoughtfully, pulling her backpack strap over her shoulder and readying her coffee cup in her hand like she was ready for battle. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled at Tony before hasting off. 

“You know she probably did that because of you.” Steve grinned playfully as Tony took her seat opposite him.

“What do you mean? I was more than pleasant.” Tony sighed, eyeing up Steve’s drink with intrigue. 

Steve just smiled, glad that he was sat with Tony instead of her. Not for any malicious reason. But because really, he only wanted to be with him and no one else. 

Steve came with Tony to set up before their gig that night, no one seemed to ask any questions. The band was performing at Sharky’s again, so Steve caught up with his co-worker, the girl with the coloured hair (Her name was Alice), catching glimpses of Tony on the drums and talking with his friends, grinning so big they all looked at each other wondering what was wrong with him. 

Later on, that night, as he expected, it was a big turn-out. Friday night, everyone was wasted, except for Steve, who didn’t drink with Tony because he knew he wouldn’t. 

Tony and Steve were sat on some old roughed up stools just before they were about to start their set, barely able to hear one another over the drunken rabble. 

“Do you ever get nervous?” Steve leant over to ask, and Tony almost jumped, not in surprise, rather, offense.

“What? Why would you ask me that?” Tony blinked, tugging on the collar of his bleached Led Zeppelin t shirt. 

Steve tilted his head to the side, Rhodey looked at Tony as if to say _’We’re starting soon, get your ass up here._’ 

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked with concern.

“Yeah.” Tony replied immediately. “Just, you know, you and your ex, seeing you together, that didn’t make me nervous if that’s what you’re asking. That is what you’re asking isn’t it?” He was talking very fast.

“No, I wasn’t.” Steve placed a subtle hand on Tony’s back. “If you’re worried about that, you don’t need to be, not with me. Ever.”

“Well, we aren’t together so what does it matter.” His voice became distant, his eyes roaming over open and proud couples as he sipped from his glass of water. 

Steve bit his lip and leaned closer to Tony. “…Do you want to be?” 

Tony’s head spun to look at him. Staring at him, his eyes. He was trying to be sure, sure of something. 

“Tones!” Rhodey yelled from the stage, throwing the strap of his bass over his head. 

Tony made an err like a broken computer and just ran away from Steve and to his drum kit like a hamster burrowing in its nest. Steve suddenly felt very aware of himself. 

Natasha shouting into the microphone to introduce the band, Tony’s bright and cathartic smile as usual lighting up the make-shift stage. There was something to be said about the support from a bunch of stoned alternative kids and how the atmosphere always shifted the minute they started playing, it must have been part of the reason Steve was so drawn to Tony in the first place, the strange feeling of acceptance he radiated to everyone in the room all the while making you subconsciously fight for his attention without even realising. It was a fickle thing. But Tony was fickle.

He thought about how Tony reacted, and wondered whether his grin as he shouted along with Natasha and thrashed on the drums was just a façade like the last time he’d heard some news. Had he ruined it? Had his attempt to keep moving forward into the future been a fatal mistake, was this all for nothing? 

Steve hadn’t heard that doubting voice in head for weeks. Tony seemed to drown it out. 

But despite everything, nothing made him happier than seeing him perform. The first time he ever saw Tony he was at this same bar, smashing his sticks on his drums making noise, he was always making noise. Yet, above everything, he was proud, proud to see him thrive, glowing in the darkest and dimmest pub lights, proud that he got to hold him at night when no one else in this dingy place did. 

If he wasn’t ready to put any strings or labels on what they had. Then that was fine. Steve had all the time in the palm of his hand. 

Steve felt himself smiling. 

He found Bucky, Clint, Thor and Bruce at the opposite end of the ‘stage’, because he had no need to be alone at the back of the bar sketching to avoid looking awkward anymore. They drunkenly welcomed him into the huddle with open arms, Thor was banging his head to the music, already way past the limit – his golden hair swinging around. No matter how much Steve tried to express his ‘alternative’ side he’d probably never be able to do that. But he’d be lying if he didn’t let his body move a little to the music, he doubted anybody was watching him.

Bucky slung his whole weight on Steve as he hugged him suddenly, shouting in his ear over Natasha’s belting and cramming his drink against his chest. “I LOVE YOU, STEVE!” 

Steve laughed and peeled his drink away from him for the safety of both of them. “Yeah! You too!” Steve yelled back, earning a sloppy kiss from Bucky which must have been intended for his cheek but barely scraped his ear. 

He didn’t mind being bumped into and knocked around by others on the dancefloor, at some point he actually started to enjoy the rabble, the noise, the contact. Times where he caught Tony smiling at him and he could feel his stomach dance. 

_”WE HAVE BEEN THE AVENGERS FUCK ALL OF YOU GOODNIGHT!!!_

Tony interrupted his own outro on his set, and before Steve was given the chance to applaud or cheer or shout he was pulled forward, Tony’s arms thrown over his shoulders, drumsticks still in his hands and tapping the back of Steve’s head as Tony hit him with a hard kiss. 

The screams roared louder, more intense, their friends shouting surprised and unexpected _”OOOOOOOOHHHHHHS!_ that made Steve realise that Tony was really doing this, in front of everyone, this was his statement to him. His acceptance. 

He was glad it was dark in there so nobody could notice the blush across his face once Tony pulled away, although he was suddenly very aware that all their friends were looking at them, Tony holding him proudly in his arms was enough. He’d noticed how much Tony would seek safety in him, but never considered that Tony would do the same for him, until that moment. 

“In case you’re wondering we don’t do that to everybody!” Rhodey yelled into the mic as he was putting away his guitar. 

“ATLEAST NOT FOR FREE!” Clint’s drunken voice somehow managed to reach the stage, earning a middle finger from Rhodey.

Tony gave shell-shocked Steve another quick kiss before running back to the stage to help the other members of his band pack up, Steve thought he was shaking but it was just Thor and Bucky aggressively rattling his shoulders in excitement. 

Steve wanted to replay the moment over and over again, the feeling of finally being acknowledged as not just someone, but someone else’s. He was grateful to be Tony’s and for Tony to be his. 

And although he loved the noise that came with Tony, he was glad when he was able to join the band and Tony’s friends in the lounge away from everyone else and not be asked if he was gay by random girls with nose piercings. The last time he was here with everyone, Tony was sat with Ty, but on this night, Tony walked into the room holding Steve’s hand, bracing him and himself for what everyone would say while equally not giving a single toasted shit.

Steve slid his thumb over the vein of Tony’s wrist, slightly nervous as all of _their_ friends were looking at them with expectant eyes as they sat on one of the patched-work couches 

“So, this is a thing?” James Rhodes looked at Tony with a raised brow, and Steve didn’t know if he was teasing or concerned. “I mean… You ‘coulda just announced it on Instagram or Facebook like a normal couple.” 

Tony smiled, sitting up so he could throw an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “Nahhh I like my way more better.” 

“And what did Steve think of your little spectacle?” Natasha smiled from the opposite couch; Steve took note of the fact that she was sat next to Bucky. And that her and Tony had since resolved their little ‘tiff’.

“I enjoyed it.” He admitted with a shy smile.

“Awww you guys are so cute.” Clint mocked in a sing-song tone, Natasha bopped him over the head with a cardboard coaster. 

“Well…” Bucky began, shifting in his seat and putting his beer on the coffee table. Trying to gain the attention of everyone in the room, and by his demeanour perhaps he wanted the drunk college kids in the rest of the bar to listen to what he was about to say. “I guess now’s as good a time as any.” 

He cleared his throat and wore a proud smile as he wrapped his arm around Natasha’s mesh covered shoulder, squeezing her as she smiled at him and only him with her bright red lips. 

“Oh! Shit!” Clint yelled slightly too loud.

“Fuck I’m alone.” Bruce also said slightly too loud, tipping his beer in everyone’s direction when they looked at him. 

Steve smiled happily at Tony; whose smile was mostly indifferent. “I already knew.” Tony sighed in a smug tone and kissed Steve’s cheek, as if to make up for it.

“Wait –“ Steve sat up, glaring at his best friend across the way. “You told Tony and not me when I told you about me and Tony?”

“You told him and not me?” Rhodey interjected, still standing at the centre of the room between them all and directing his own glare at Tony, interrupting him once he tried to answer. “No, actually, I’m getting distracted from what we’re really here for. As most of you already know, today is a special anniversary.”

Tony didn’t tell Steve about anything special about today. He wished he was more prepared. 

“We are here tonight to celebrate Mr Tony Stark. The one and only, the man, the myth, the chaotic, queer mess – for one year of sobriety.” 

Steve had no idea, feeling very bad all of a sudden as his friends began cheering and clapping, Tony removing his arm from his shoulder and smiling at them all with raised brows, he was ever so slightly tense, Steve could feel it, and put all his own feelings about himself aside to place a hand on Tony’s leg. _I’m proud of you._ \- He really was. 

“To mark the occasion, I have been given permission to award Tony – This.” He pulled out a gold coin from his pocket, virtually identical to the one Tony had shown him months before. 

“Tones, you wanna come up and say a few words?” Rhodey smiled, he was proud too, even if he wouldn’t admit it right now in front of everyone. 

“Oh what the heck.” 

Tony immediately jumped out of his seat, taking the coin from Rhodey with care, studying it carefully between the tips of his fingers. The funny thing about Tony, was that if that had been a Nobel Peace Prize, he wouldn’t look at it twice, it would end up in the bottom of a box of random junk in a storage cupboard never to be seen again. But this - Steve could see that Tony was struggling to come up with something witty to say at the sight of it. 

“Wow… What an honour.” Tony joked, wiping away fake tears to coax a few laughs from his friends. “I’d like to thank… None of you. As being with you, horrible people, makes me wish that I was back in rehab, eating mashed potatoes every single day and going to bed at 8pm.” 

A quiet crowd of mock boo’s started and Tony laughed a little to himself.

“I’m kidding, of course… Uhm. Who ‘woulda thought? Me, being straight edge. I mean, I don’t smoke, I don’t get high, I don’t drink. Who am I anymore? I don’t even know why you guys wanna hang out with me I’m so… boring.” He drifted off into a laugh. 

“But – uhh, I don’t need it anymore. I’m… I’m happy. That’s what it’s about right? I guess I’m excited about what the future holds. So… Peace.” He held up two fingers, partially smiling as he waited for the expected applause. Steve clapped too, and welcomed the slightly flushed Tony into his arms for a hug as he hurried back, clutching the coin in the palm of his hand, refusing to open it like he was ashamed for anyone else to see him treasuring it. 

Steve kissed him, to let him know that it was okay. And even Tony could ignore the jokey grossed out noises from his friends as he looked back up at him with a sparkle of yellow and orange in his eye. 

A future with Tony was all he ever wanted. 

There was a high in the air when the couple of them arrived back to Tony’s apartment, dancing through the streets hand in hand, it felt impossibly magical. There was something undeniably beautiful about watching Tony unwind when he was away from everyone else, and Steve must have accidentally thought out loud because Tony was looking at him with a crooked grin while his jeans were halfway down his knees. 

“What’re you staring at?” Tony smiled, wrestling with his shirt as he tried to throw it out. Maybe he thought too hard about making the action sexy, and ended up getting his elbow caught in his left arm hole. 

Steve tugged on the fabric around Tony’s arm, gently pulling the shirt over his head. “You. I just like looking at you.” 

“You’re so cheesy. Big cheese man.” Tony looked at the floor. He could’ve been blushing. “Why do you even like me?” He asked suddenly, smiling at Steve like he was trying to pass it off as a joke, but it wasn’t. 

“Well I’m your _boyfriend_ now so, this is what you signed up for.”

“Oh, you like the sound of that don’t you? _Boooyfriend_.” He sang, placing hand on Steve’s chest, satisfied at the feel of it. 

He did, he definitely did. 

Steve sighed long, and hard, it didn’t seem real that Tony was stood there in his briefs, smiling at him and touching him. He’d lost his train of thought in his fingertips. 

“God, I wish I could just take you away.” Steve moaned, running his fingertips up and down Tony’s tanned skin. “Have you all to myself.” 

“Why?” Tony asked suddenly, a half smile masking his question as a light-hearted joke. “Why do you even like me?” He looked at the floor, embarrassed, ashamed, Steve couldn’t be sure because Tony was trying to play it off as if he really wasn’t that bothered. 

Steve smiled at him, which led to a look of confusion on Tony’s face, so Steve kissed him, which only made his furrowed brow more severe. Only mere words could describe _why_ Steve liked Tony. And like was just a less important version of love, which Steve was sure, no, he _knew_ he felt. But he’d try to get the right sentences out for him. 

“Tony…You… You doubt yourself too much.” 

“No I don’t.” He replied snappily. Which was proceeded by a blush.

Steve just smiled in a way that said _’I told you_, without saying it, otherwise Tony might bop him on the shoulder or pull him into a choke hold which Steve could most certainly get out of, but he’d let Tony wrestle him like a puppy just to make him feel proud of himself. 

“Tony, you are the most… Amazingly fantastical person I’ve ever met. Definitely the smartest. It’s not that you’re a guy or… It’s just you. I just think you’re…” He couldn’t think of the most appropriate word to use, and one accidentally spilled out of his mouth. “Neat.” 

Tony’s lips quivered, back and forth, Steve wasn’t sure what that meant and then – then he burst into laughter. Like – the hardest he’d ever seen Tony laugh before. He was wrenching over his gut with laughter, and Steve managed a few light chuckles to conceal his blush.

“What?” Steve laughed, nudging Tony’s elbow. 

“You…” Tony laughed into a not so delicate sigh. “Oh just take me away then. For real.” 

“For real?” He grinned, pulling Tony towards him by his waist. 

“Yes. For real.” Tony repeated, looking more serious. 

“Wait, seriously?” Steve immediately checked himself, remembering it was Tony he was dealing with. “Nah you’re messing with me.” 

“No – I’m serious.” 

Steve scanned his face to try and see whether he was joking or not. He couldn’t be serious, surely not. He had friends, his own band, college, he couldn’t just suddenly get up and leave like Steve had dreamed about all this time. Not that he wasn’t grateful, but he always imagined he was destined for more than this, and with Tony by his side, well, he would be complete. 

“Wh-“

“I’m serious.” Tony repeated. 

“And go where?” Steve challenged with a smile. 

“Anywhere. You know I’ve never seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

“I’ve never left the country.” 

“Well then where do you wanna start?” He wrapped his scarred hands around Steve’s and pulled him around the room, he didn’t care that the curtains were open.

“Hmmm… Well, I’ve always wanted to go to D.C...”

“Really?” Tony tilted his head. “I’m offering you Italy or France and you wanna go see Abe Lincoln?” 

Steve laughed. “Well this is all hypothetical right? I can hypothetically want to visit wherever I want.” 

“Who said it was hypothetical?” Tony stopped in his tracks. 

“Wait – you’re not actually being serious?” 

“Yeah I’m being serious I said it like… Two times! Why wouldn’t I be serious? If… If you want to, I… I want to. I want to do it Steve.” 

Steve didn’t hesitate. He didn’t need to.

“Okay.” He let out a breath, like a relief. “Okay, if you’re serious… Let’s do it.” He held Tony in his lap, held his hands like he wouldn’t have needed to travel the world because he had it right in his arms, but he’d go anywhere if Tony asked him to. Happily. 

Tony began to beam at him with the most wild and wicked grin, and kissed him to make him believe that it was all possible, and it was. 

They made love and bought coach tickets for 3:30pm the next day.

Neither of them knew if they’d really end up going through with it, whether they were just high off each other and making stupid decisions. Steve asked Tony what about his friends and he said: _”They’ll be here when we get back.”_

Tony was packing his clothes all night, excited and nervous, he could barely sleep. He’d clearly been waiting for a reason to escape too. And Steve began to hope he was more to Tony than just an escape. 

Steve made Tony a big breakfast in the morning, he was all packed with just the ‘essentials’: several band t shirts, a few nice dress shirts, pants, underwear, socks, his makeup and nail polish, phone charger, a kindle, which Steve didn’t think people actually used, a bottle of Gatorade and something from his mother that he kept in a box and wouldn’t let Steve see.

Tony could barely keep still at the table, rambling in between shoving fork-fulls of eggs in his mouth. “You need to go home and pack, I’ll come with you, I’m pretty much done here.”

Tony had probably been on a million trips in his life, Steve had seen pictures of him in Paris, India, Thailand, Milan, Greece. Why was he so excited to go to Washington, with him nonetheless – it could’ve been that this trip didn’t come with a return ticket. Steve was certainly scared and excited about that part. 

“Tony you’re… You’re sure about this aren’t you?” Steve asked in a quiet voice from across the table. 

“Well yeah it’s a little too late to back out now.” Tony said sarcastically, mostly because he was a little absent at the time, sarcasm seemed to be his default at times.

“Tony.” 

Tony didn’t respond well to the ever so slight demand in Steve’s voice – causing him to almost recoil and stop eating completely, looking at Steve now, oh, he felt bad.

Steve reached across the table to hold his hand. 

_I’d never hurt you._

And Tony knew, smiling back.

“Steve, I’ve never been surer of anything. Except for the time that I thought I saw John Travolta wearing crocs in Times Square. I was very sure that time.” 

“I believe you.” Steve smiled, contently. “Finish that, and then we’ll head to my apartment.” 

“Okay, Dad.” Tony groaned, smirking at him over his shoulder as Steve proceeded towards the door to get his shoes. 

“Stop that.” Steve replied sternly, making Tony laugh. 

He could definitely get used to months of this, Tony, travelling and laughing, maybe bickering every now and again. Just the two of them against the world. 

They had a plan, it was 1:25pm by the time they made it to Steve’s apartment, Tony sprawled across his bed as he packed, talking endlessly. They needed enough time to make it to the bus station, and for Tony to say goodbye to Rhodey in person. He texted everyone else, but Rhodey wouldn’t have it. Steve knew he’d see Bucky in the apartment, who sat on his bed with a grumpy look on his face.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. What about your classes? I mean you got a full ride scholarship those don’t exactly come around so often.” He whined, looking at Tony he was the evil stepmother who took his dad away – not on purpose, but he couldn’t help it with the shock of Steve leaving. 

“I’ll go to libraries and do my work. I don’t know. You know I never wanted to play football anyway.” Steve sighed, stuffing another shirt into a duffle bag. 

“Oh boo hoo Steve. Look I know you’re riding with money bags over there, _no offence_ -“ Bucky groaned, Tony sang a small _’None taken._ back at him. “ – But don’t you think this is all a little ridiculous? I mean you thought this up last night, and you’re going _TODAY?!_ And you don’t even know when you’ll be back? How are you going to get by?” 

“I’ve still got my scholarship; I get enough money to get by as it is. I know I haven’t thought it all the way through Buck but when have I with anything?” Steve zipped up his bag and looked at his friend. “Come on, I don’t want to leave on a sour note.” 

Bucky chewed on it for a little. Steve saw Tony rooting through his own bag out of the corner of his eye. 

“Who’s gonna hold my hair back when I’m throwing up now?” Bucky half smiled, standing up to walk over to his old friend. 

“You’ve got Natasha now, I’m sure she’ll take care of you. Or whip you into shape.” Steve smiled back. 

“I’ll let you two love birds have some privacy.” A rather scattered Tony interjected as he slipped between them, and stepping out of their quaint shared bedroom. 

Steve and Bucky stared at one another, awkwardly, of course, as boys are often.

Until they pulled one another into a hug. A real tight hug, old friends saying their goodbyes, neither of them knowing when they’d meet again. 

Steve didn’t realise he had teared up until he saw Bucky’s eyes in the same state once they pulled apart. 

“Alright.” Bucky coughed into a closed fist. “You better go get that bus, or you’ll be late.” 

“Yeah. Uhm… Thanks, Buck, for everything.” 

“Hey, it’s not like you’re going forever right? Hell, maybe next time I see you you’ll be living on a ranch with ten horses and Tony to wrangle. Shouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“No, no you’re right. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Yeah, you too.” 

They shared one more familiar smile, Steve taking himself and his bag and saying goodbye to his little room he’d grown so accustomed to. He never thought he’d so quickly go back into a life of room hopping and not knowing where he was going to be staying every month. But now, he wasn’t a kid, now, he was with Tony. 

The two of them caught up outside of his dorm, Tony looking more frazzled than before.

“Okay, slight problem.” Tony began, sighing and giving side eyes to pedestrians who walked too close to him. “I forgot that uhh… Gift, from my mom. I think I must’ve left it on the night table, I thought I packed it.” 

“Alright, uhh, you’re meeting Rhodey aren’t you?” 

“Yeah.” Tony huffed like that was obvious. 

“Okay, um. I’ll tell you what, give me your key, I’ll go grab it, we’ll meet at the station, okay?” Steve smiled, squeezing his shoulders.

“You sure?” Tony bit his lip. He looked so uncertain, and looked up to Steve for reassurance whether he’d admit it or not. 

“Of course, go say bye to your friend. Don’t worry about anything, it’s gonna be okay.” 

Steve just smiled, and squeezed Tony’s shoulder, about to say goodbye, when – 

“I love you.” 

Steve paused. 

He turned to Tony, the most frightened he’d ever seen him. 

“I love you too.” He replied, and he knew that he wasn’t surer about anything.

Tony smiled. And Steve smiled back. It felt as though everything Steve had ever imagined was beautiful in the universe had landed at his feet, and it was overwhelming, and amazing. And he’d never wanted the future more.

“I’ll see you at the station.” 

Their feet danced around each other tentatively, like they were scared to separate for even a second. Steve looked back as he headed towards Tony’s apartment, and Tony looked back too. God, he could’ve flown to Tony’s apartment at this rate. 

He had to hop on a bus, but he made it to Tony’s apartment in due time. He knew Tony wouldn’t have made a fuss if it held no significance, he was the type who could replace anything. But this obviously was priceless to him. Steve knew the only two people he could never replace were James Rhodes, and Maria Stark. 

Walking down the corridor, he heard music, assuming it was coming from one of Tony’s neighbours.

Tony’s door was slightly ajar, and he pin-pointed the sound coming from inside. 

Of course, he didn’t think anything of it, Tony was the type to leave the TV on when he left the house, and assuming Tony didn’t think he would ever come back to this apartment, he didn’t really care if his flat screen or any other valuables were stolen. 

Just as he suspected, he couldn’t see anyone inside, the TV was on a music channel, playing the classics, Frankie Valli and Louie Armstrong (he approved), he made a mental note to turn it off as he left, heading straight for the bedroom as not to waste any time. He grabbed the velvet box, and although he was tempted to peek inside, he didn’t. 

Steve checked his watch as he made his way out into the living room, he was way on time, if he left now, he’d be able to make it to the bus station and – 

“Hello Steve.” He nearly jumped out of his skin.

Leaning against the back of Tony’s couch, was – 

_Oh give me a break._

“Ty.” Steve clenched his jaw, more annoyed at his presence than anything. “Man, you know you shouldn’t be here. Just go.” Speaking in a level tone, trying to calm down from the scare and wanting to get out and to Tony as soon as possible. “Tony’s not here, and even if he was, he doesn’t want to see you, you know that.” 

“Ugh. Drop the protective hero act for a moment Steve. I’m not here to see Tony. I wanted to talk to you.” Ty had changed, he looked older, less boyish and daring like he had the last time Steve saw him, his eyes were darker, his clothes weren’t ironed and pristine as they always were. Steve just cursed internally.

_I thought I shook this little asshole._

“Talk to me? What about?” Steve almost laughed; it was an incredulous situation. Was Ty spying on him? On him and Tony?

“Oh… Nothing in particular. Just wanted to let you know how your existence has been an insufferable parasite stuck on my life. And I think the same for Tony, and all your little friends.”

Steve scoffed, by Ty just kept talking.

“I’ve been keeping tabs, I worry about Tony. He’s a troubled kid, and I don’t think you’re any good for him – see, all you’ve done since you’ve shown up is fuck up every one’s life. Mine, Tony’s, I heard about that little situation with your friend and the redhead. Don’t you ever think they’d be so much better without you?” 

He had that smug look on his face he always did, no, of course that hadn’t changed. Steve knew what he was trying to do, and he wouldn’t but into it. No matter how much the words stung. 

“Tony… You know he’s going to be the next CEO of his father’s company? And you’re going to take that all away for him, his life, his degree, his friends, all for your own selfish little gain. He has so much potential and he’s wasting it on – on _you_? You don’t have a penny to your name, if you can even spell it. You don’t deserve him.” 

Steve thought about how good it would be right now to punch him closed fist, right on the nose, and watch him hit the ground. His fist tightened, but he wouldn’t do it. As easy as it would be, oh yeah, he could take Ty, for sure. 

Steve’s voice was cold as he spoke. “Your sick obsession with Tony should’ve ended when he threw you out of your own apartment Ty. I thought you were supposed to be the big hot shot, aren’t you the heir to a company? And here you are arguing the rub with me. You need help, Ty. Not Tony.” 

Steve was done here, done with this. He turned his back on Ty, towards the front door, to Tony. 

As Steve reached for the door handle, Ty kicked it with his foot, Steve turned, he saw a baseball-bat, he heard Only You (And You Alone) by The Platters, and a horrible pain on the back of his head as he hit the floor. 

It was black, and then the blue wallpaper of Tony’s apartment, a picture of Tony, Rhodey and Natasha in a frame by the door.

The door, Tony, Tony… 

There was another swing, and the blue wallpaper faded into grey, into ash, the flick of Tony’s cigarette. 

“Tony…” 

There was a final swing, and white. Only white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- im so sorry -


	6. using

Tony waited. 

He texted. 

He even called. 

He waited until the coach came and left, until he finally decided that yes, Steve wasn’t coming. 

He tried to reason it to himself, maybe he got lost, maybe Tony went to the wrong bus station? No, he wasn’t wrong. Perhaps he did chicken out. 

Who wouldn’t? Tony couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to spend an isolated pro-longed time with him. 

He went back to his apartment, empty, the brooch from his mother was still there in its box on the night table. It felt more barren than before somehow, although he hadn’t taken many of his belongings, maybe that was just the empty, sullen feeling in his stomach. 

He went to Steve’s dorm. Bucky hadn’t seen him, maybe he was lying, covering for him. _What if something’s happened to him?_ But the Steve he knew was strong, the Steve he thought he knew was brave. He wouldn’t just ditch him without a word, like a coward.

Or would he? 

A few days had passed in complete silence. No one had heard anything, and everyone assumed the worst. 

Until Tony got a text. 

_’I’m sorry. I couldn’t handle it.’_

He read it, over and over again, six words, two period marks, ingrained into the back of his brain, clicking around and filling the space over and over again like clockwork. 

But Tony didn’t need to wonder what it meant. Not many people could handle him. He understood, he had heard and felt lies before, and although they’d never quite hurt him like this. He was used to it. 

A part of him felt guilty for expecting any different. 

Bucky stopped by Tony’s apartment, he wanted to see the text for himself, the only reason that Tony let him is because he was the only person who wasn’t bringing the pity party along with him, as he felt Steve’s disappearance as much as he did. 

“I don’t get it.” Bucky harrowed over Tony’s phone, looking back and forth at the text just like Tony had.

“What’s not to get. He bailed. He obviously wanted to for a long time. Guess this just gave him a good escape route.” Tony sighed, sitting down at the table next to Steve’s friend.

“It’s just… It’s not like him.” Bucky gave Tony his phone back, not that he wanted to look at it anymore either. 

“Well maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. I sure didn’t.” Tony stood up again, agitated and unsatisfied, implying he wanted Bucky to leave.

Bucky stood as he noticed, he looked at the look on Tony’s face in the same way someone does at a car crash they’ve driven by. 

“I’m just not convinced. I don’t think he would do this. I know how he felt about you Tony. The way he beat himself up when you… Well, I’ve seen him at his worst and he definitely wasn’t there these past few months. Something’s happened to him.” 

“You know, ‘Bucky’, at some point, the things people do stops being so surprising. Maybe you’ll learn that from this. And… And if you’re so convinced that he hasn’t left on his own accord than by all means, _you_ look for him. You… You find him. You hear me?” Tony stopped speaking before his voice faltered anymore. 

Bucky nodded. 

He pulled up his backpack that was resting beside his chair, reaching into it and pulling out a thick leather book. Tony recognised it immediately. He could pick it out from the first time he saw it.

“I thought you should see this… Well, I’ll leave you alone.” 

Tony took the sketchbook from him, he had no energy to even muster a thank you even if he wanted to, and he didn’t. He wasn’t feeling thankful at all. 

Bucky saw himself out, Tony sitting meekly back at the table, Steve’s sketchbook in front of him. He debated whether to look through it, but that internal argument only lasted mere seconds.

It was full of torn out sketches that had been stuffed in between the leather roughly. He sifted through random sketches of trees, books, wondering why Bucky thought this had any use to him. Until he reached a portrait of Tony he’d never seen before, pencilled in, black and white. 

He flicked onto the next page, and it was Tony, again, sitting naturally, focus on his hands. The next page, another drawing of Tony, and the next one had another. 

But Tony reached a point where the poignant, picture-perfect sketches of him began to slip, not in quality, just… Something else. 

Colours began to infuse into the pages, scribbles around Tonys head like some sort of wreath, or a halo, every single page he turned to, was different, blue, green, his eyes, his mouth, his smile, scratched into the page in pencil over his head over and over again: _’I love him_.

Tony couldn’t breathe, and the pages began to fall damp beneath him, he had to cover his mouth to stifle some sobs as if he had to hide them although he was all alone. He kept turning the pages, hundreds of detailed or rough drawings until he reached the final one. 

The end, it was Tony, of course, a sunset, or a fire, Tony couldn’t tell, around his beaming face, it was different somehow to the others, Tony stood out amongst all the colour, the red and the orange, the burning yellow. 

He never thought anyone could see him this way. 

Tony would cling to the only thing he had left of Steve. He didn’t know when he’d return, if ever. But he’d bind his love to the pages, and close to black leather cover on it. For as long as he needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof- it's over! I hope you guys enjoyed although this is very big sad :'(.  
The world is pretty scary right now and we all need a distraction even if it's a sad distraction, I know some of you will hate me for this ending but sadly I live for angst.  
Love u all, thank you so much for reading and nice comments are always appreciated and make my day!


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